Steppin' Out With Wolvie
by Ramos
Summary: Wolverine & Jubilee go out on the town. Some language, eventually slides into steamy 'R' rating. Originally archived at WolverineandJubilee, but chapter four exceeds Ascian's ratings policy. Read the full version here!
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Life of Him  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Series: Steppin' Out With Wolvie  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics. No profit is made by their use.  
  
  
  
I was digging in the fridge for a cold one when Jubilee and Drake blew in from a Danger Room session and started at it again.  
  
"Hey, gimme that back!"  
  
"Finders keepers, Jube. You ate the last of the Sugar Bombs, I get the last of these."  
  
'These,' it turned out, were the tail end of a bag of chips, and Drake was currently using his ten-inch advantage in height to hold the bag out of Jubilee's reach. Dumb move really, and I heard the 'oof' just as I went back to excavating the bottom shelf. Yep, sounded like an elbow in the gut, and believe me, that kid's got some sharp elbows. Aha, there's the beauty I was looking for, hiding in the very back.  
  
The sound of mylar rustling and Jubilee's giggling and Bobby grunting and protesting her underhanded tactics was damned annoying, and it ratcheted up about ten notches when I pulled my brew out and read the label. Diet cherry-chocolate soda, with a crust on the rim of some unknown leftover. I slapped it back down on the shelf and shut the fridge with a little more force than was strictly necessary. It must have caught Fric and Frak's attention, 'cause the two looked up from a tangle of arms, legs, and scattered chip flotsam on the floor. For some reason, that just pissed me off a little bit more.  
  
"Dammit, you two, why don't you grow up?"  
  
Bobby actually looked a bit embarrassed at my growled demand, but Jubilee just propped herself on his back and narrowed her eyes at me. "Wolvie, when's the last time you got laid?"  
  
I dunno if Drake laughed or barked, but I was beginning to get really riled. "None of your damned business," I snarled. Jubilee may not have been a teenager any longer - heck, she graduated from college almost a year ago, but I was not about to discuss my sex life, or lack thereof, with her now or ever.  
  
"Uh huh," she said archly, extricating herself from Drake and pulling him up off the floor with ease. She wasn't super strong like Rogue; she was just in damn good shape. She brushed the chips out of her messy black hair and pulled a broom out of the utility closet, and I caught myself noticing the nice way she filled out her uniform. I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets. Crap, maybe she was right.  
  
"I'm goin' out fer a beer," I announced.  
  
"No, you're not," Jube had the nerve to reply, as she thwacked Bobby in the chest with a dustpan and started sweeping the mess up. "We got mutant time at the petting zoo tonight, remember?"  
  
I muttered something obscene, which only got another chortle from Jube. Damn, damn, and double damn. Chuck had some stupid benefit or other in New York tonight, guaranteed to be excruciating, and we'd all promised to show up. Show everybody what nice mutants really looked like. Freaks on flamin' parade. I stomped off and just made it out the door into the main hall when Jube grabbed my arm from behind. Her eyes darted to Bobby through the doorway.  
  
"Hank and Popsicle Boy have a half case of Molson in the laboratory fridge," she whispered. "Hank's not due back for an hour, and I'll keep Bobby busy for ya." Then she winked at me.  
  
Impulsively I grabbed her by the ears and planted a wet one on her forehead. "Jube, you're the best."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she replied, grinning.  
  
I left a twenty on the shelf where the beer used to be and went back upstairs to find my monkey suit. Not even for Xavier would I wear a tie, but Jubilee had nagged me until I'd finally let her drag me out shopping to get some clothes. Everything was in black, so I didn't have to worry about matching stuff. Clean shirt, pants, and a jacket, and a bolo tie that was a quick slide on or off, and I never had to worry about the knot being square.  
  
Between the beer and the painless clothing choices, I was feeling better by muster time. Seven adults and an hour-long ride into the city demanded two cars, and I was convincing the Professor's collapsible wheelchair it would fit in the trunk of the BMW when Jubilee finally made it down the front steps. I was busy and didn't look at her just then. I mean, cripes, you can hear that girl a mile away even when she's trying to be quiet. You'd think I'd never taught her a thing about stealthy movement.  
  
I finally shut the lid and then I got a look at her as she was climbing in the back of Bobby's new convertible. I'm not sure what the style was called, but it was made of blue cobwebs and showed one bare shoulder and nearly all of one leg, and was definitely not designed to cover while its wearer climbed over a bucket seat.  
  
"What the hell are you wearin', kid?"  
  
She stood up straight, and I guess it did look better if she held perfectly still, but she pulled her sunglasses down and glared at me. "Don't start, Wolvie."  
  
I held up my hands, signaling surrender, so she flopped down in the seat and pulled the shawl, excuse me, wrap, over her shoulders. I took shotgun, and Bobby made us all put on our seatbelts before we followed the Beamer out of the drive and out onto the highway.  
  
Scott drives like a little old lady and I could see 'Ro and Jean gabbing away in the back seat, obviously not in any hurry, so it took us a while to reach this shindig. I listened to Drake bragging about the car, and Jubilee bitching about the back seat being too small, and could he turn up the heat, she was freezing her butt off. For some reason, that made me grin. Don't get me wrong, Jube can gripe like nobody's business. Take her on a mission, she breaks a nail and it's a major catastrophe. But the funny thing is, when the chips are down and the prospects of just surviving seem bleak, she's the toughest person I know. Tougher than me, sometimes. She just doesn't know how to quit and she'd never let you quit either, no matter how hopeless you feel or how bad it really is. So listening to her complain was sometimes just an amusing Zen exercise.  
  
The amusement lasted about five minutes after we hit the door. Half the politicians and assorted big sticks Xavier knew had been invited to this event, and as much as I appreciate the fact that this crowd had made being a mutant a lot easier in the last couple of years, I wasn't about to put a sticker on my chest that said 'Hi, I'm not human.' Scott was officially out of the closet, and Jubilee was gonna put on a little show tonight, but the first yahoo who asked me if I was 'one of those people' was gonna wake up wondering who spiked his drink.  
  
I hit the bar regularly, ignored the speeches, and generally cooled my heels for several really boring hours. Jubilee's little show was the highlight, as far as I was concerned. She told me once she performed in a mall for tips, making her sparkles and fireworks into pictures. I don't know how good she was back then, but she was damned fabulous now. She started off slow, with flowers that bloomed and burned, a lion pounced out of nowhere, then curled up and disintegrated, but the whole crowd was gasping by the time a flight of multi-colored dragons swooped down on them, then wheeled and enacted an aerial battle. The applause was sustained, and I have to admit I felt pretty proud of her right then.  
  
She almost escaped off the stage when some yahoo I recognized from a news show cornered her at the stairs and started asking her a bunch of questions about how strong was she really, had she ever done any damage to property. Moving in, I was close enough to hear her make a joke about popping a bag of popcorn without a microwave. Geek didn't know ol' Jube could probably take down the entire hotel if she were really trying, but from the way her shoulders were tensing, if he didn't back off, she might let him in on it.  
  
"Aren't you afraid you could hurt somebody with powers like that?"  
  
I put a heavy hand on the guy's shoulder, ready to hurt him some without any powers, when Jubilee smiled sweetly at him.  
  
"Actually, if I wanted to do some damage to somebody, I'd probably just punch him out."  
  
He finally took the hint and moved out of the way, though my grip grinding his shoulder bones together might have had something to do with it.  
  
I got her moved away from the stage and found her a club soda at the bar, shared some of the tortured chow being passed around as edible, and spent the rest of the evening acting like a guard dog against the political climbers in thousand dollar suits who thought the cute mutie would be an interesting addition to their bedpost notches. I'm still processing the fact that Jubilee's an adult now, not to mention she can kick butt and take names with the best of 'em, but old habits die hard. She, on the other hand, showed her appreciation of my efforts by flirting outrageously and collecting their business cards like they were valuable or something.  
  
Things finally wound down, and Scott and Jean began making noises about getting back to the mansion and their kids, like Hank couldn't watch over a pair of ankle biters sound asleep in their own beds. Xavier was staying at the hotel for a conference, so when I turned to tell Jube it was time to go, the speculative look in her eye caught me by surprise.  
  
"Bobby, can I borrow your car?" She never looked at him, just kept pinning me with those dark blue eyes and the little wheels in there were spinning for all they were worth. Foreboding, yeah, that's the word I'm looking for.  
  
Drake choked on the last of his drink. "Of course not."  
  
"C'mon, Bobby. Lend me your car, and Wolvie will let ya take his bike out for a spin."  
  
"Like hell," I grunted, at the same time he said "Absolutely no way."  
  
Jube rolled her eyes at both of us. "Gawd, why don't you just pee on them or something. They're vehicles, dudes, not your 'nads."  
  
Drake stuck to his guns. "No way, chick. You are not taking my wheels."  
  
The little brat stalked right up to him, crossed her arms and stuck out one hip like she does when she's being stubborn, like that's an unusual situation. "All right, final offer. Your car, tonight, for a favor to be named later."  
  
She must have been serious, 'cause Jube just doesn't usually make that bargain. She was offering her word to do whatever Drake wanted, from breakfast in bed for a week to a blind date from hell with one of his old frat buddies. Bobby was considering it when a set of keys dangled in front of her face.  
  
"I'll take that offer," Scott smirked. "I've got a ton of paperwork at the office, the Blackbird needs waxing . . . " Even 'Ro and Jean were laughing, but Jube grabbed the keys in a flash.  
  
"Deal. You hitch home with the Popsicle, and I'll be along later."  
  
"Wait a minute," I said, grabbing her arm. "That little car ain't gonna hold five people."  
  
"Wow, you're right," she replied. "It'll hold four, though, and you're coming with me."  
  
"Jubilee," I growled.  
  
"C'mon, it'll be fun," she wheedled, reversing my hold on her and pulling. I pulled back, and I still outweigh her by a good fifty pounds, even if she's taller than I am. Just barely taller, but I didn't budge.  
  
"No way, Darlin'."  
  
"Oh, you want to go back to brooding in the mansion. Think you're Bruce Wayne, or somthin'?"  
  
I stuck my jaw out, prepared to be obstinate, but she knew me too well. Leaning in to my ear, she murmured, "I'm buyin' the booze, and if you're lucky, we'll find a bar fight somewhere." I think she was kidding about the fight, but with Jube, you never know.  
  
And hell, I really didn't want to go back to the house.  
  
"Alright," I grumbled, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile that made me feel like a jerk. She gave a merry wave to the rest of the gang, dragging me along.  
  
"See ya later!"  
  
"Where are you going?" Cyke wasn't curious; he was probably weighing the likelihood of having to post bail.  
  
"Trolling for babes!" she shouted, ignoring the shocked expressions of the older couple who had to get out of the way of her charge. "Don't worry, Dad, we'll be home by dawn!"  
  
I should have known better.  
  
  
  
Like a force of nature, Jubilee had me in the car and zipping down the freeway to another part of the city before I could ask her where the hell she was kidnapping me to. Pulsing music, at least it was supposed to be music, rolled out into the street when she parked illegally in the little parking lot and left me trailing after her. The building was plain brick, and over the door a flashing neon sign spelled out something. I was trying to puzzle out the jagged letters, but she grabbed me by the hand before I could finish.  
  
A line of people were waiting in a ragged row up the steps, but the firecracker ignored them and gave the bouncer at the door a full body hug and a kiss on the cheek. The bastard returned the favor, giving her butt a squeeze in the process and getting a giggle for his efforts. I was thinking about detaching his hand painfully from his arm and making him a present of it, especially after he grinned at me, but he opened the door and Jube slithered in, dragging me right behind. The queue still standing out there started protesting, but their yammering was drowned out by the sudden and really painful increase in music volume. Jube must have seen me wince, 'cause she dropped the car keys into her itty bitty purse, dug out a pair of disposable earplugs and stuffed them in my ears, and damned if it didn't confirm she had this evening planned.  
  
"What the hell are you up to, Jubilation Lee?" I shouted over the music.  
  
"Quit bein' a grouch, Wolvie! I'm gonna take care of your lizard," she shouted back. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know what that meant.  
  
Apparently she was looking for someone, cause she parked me on a barstool with the instructions to stay put, paid the frou-frou behind the bar way too much for some really bad bourbon, and took off. I caught site of her a bit later, whispering in the ear of a blonde with jazzed up hair. Blondie looked at me and gave me a speculative once over, then sauntered my direction while Jube disappeared again.  
  
She was a fine lookin' woman, and, to give her credit, she knew how to walk when a man was watching her. She told me her name, which I promptly forgot, and offered to buy me a drink. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against bold women, and believe me, she was bold, but something about her set my teeth on edge. She leaned on me, squeezed my knee, asked leading questions and all but got a yardstick and asked how I measured out. Finally, I guess I pissed her off, 'cause she left me alone. I had thirty seconds of peace with my booze before a brunette moved in. This one stuffed a piece of paper with her phone number on it into the pocket of my pants with some interesting moves of her finger along my thigh.  
  
An eternity later, I checked my watch, then just to be sure asked the jackass behind the bar what time it was. When I did the math I'd been there for all of forty-five minutes. The annoyance I'd been dealing with earlier today returned, and brought some of its buddies with it. I'd had five women buy me drinks, six push their phone numbers in my pants, and one gal that I'm pretty sure was actually a guy in drag offered to do something to me that I ain't repeating in a million years, even if you torture me.  
  
Right now, though, I was ready to torture one particular teammate of mine, as soon as I found her. The dance floor was one of those raised affairs, and I circled the perimeter searching for a certain lethal blue dress. I might not be as tall as the GQ wannabes surrounding me, but they all got the hell out of the way when I ran down my quarry. She was dancing with a buck who had one hand on her neck and one thigh arched over hers, and he made nice big saucer eyes at me when I ground my heel on his toe and yanked Jube right off the floor. Seriously, I wrapped an arm around her middle, lifted all hundred pounds or so of her, and headed for the exit.  
  
The same guy was at the door as I hauled her out with me, and she said something to him I was too pissed off to hear. Anyway, he stayed where he was, and I toted her across the street and halfway to the car before I dropped her and made a grab for the purse. Jube is faster than a snake, though, and she evaded me and held it behind her back.  
  
"Gimme those keys!" I demanded.  
  
"What the hell is your problem?"  
  
"Next time I wanna be pawed over by a bunch of women, Jube, I'll find my own whores!"  
  
"They're not whores, Wolvie. They're friends of mine. And don't worry, they knew ya wasn't in the market for a relationship, just a good time."  
  
"What exactly did ya tell 'em?"  
  
She glared at me. "I told them your lizard was lonely, and that you had stamina. That's all."  
  
"And just what in hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Everybody's got two brains, Wolvie. Regular brain handles complex stuff like which flight gets you to D.C. faster, stuff like that. Your lizard brain... handles the basics."  
  
"The basics," I echoed, knowing where this was going.  
  
"Yeah, you know, the basics." A slight flush rose in her cheeks. "Hungry. Cold. Horny."  
  
Oh, great. As if I didn't have enough trouble keepin' my inner beast under control, now apparently I had a lizard in there too.  
  
"I can handle my own sex drive, Jube!" I shouted, not really caring if it came out the way I think it just did.  
  
"Apparently not!" she shouted back. "You've been a major league grouch for three weeks solid, and I'm getting real sick of it! Something's bothering you, and if it's not the lack of horizontal exercise, then what the hell is it?"  
  
"Dammit, kid! It's none of yer flamin' business!"  
  
I tried to control it, but in a split second I remembered that Jubilee had known Rosie, had spent time with her, and possibly remembered her with some of the same affection I did. It must have shown in my face, because Jubilee got real quiet for a second. The purse and the shawl dropped on the sidewalk, forgotten as she planted a hand on each of my shoulders and pinned me with a look in her sapphire eyes I don't often see. It basically meant the world could come to an end, but she wasn't budging until I answered the question.  
  
"What. Is. It?"  
  
My mouth opened, but it took a painful moment I could grind the words out. "I got a letter from Madripoor, coupl'a weeks ago."  
  
Jube just waited until the uneasy burn in my chest forced my mouth to move again. "Rose Wu died."  
  
Jubilee's eyes widened, and I felt like a bastard for not telling her earlier. She and Rosie musta had some girl time I didn't know about, 'cause damned if she didn't look like she was going to cry.  
  
"Oh, god," she whispered. "What happened?"  
  
I sighed. "Nothin' happened, Darlin.' Rosie was pushing sixty somethin', and she had a bad heart. She died in her sleep."  
  
Two shimmering tears squeezed out from her eyelids as her arms went around my neck, and after a moment I put my arms around her, too. "I'm so sorry, Wolvie," she sniffled quietly. "Rosie was a great gal."  
  
I rubbed Jube's back, glad we weren't yelling any more, and kinda touched that Jubilee remembered Rosie so well.  
  
"Yeah, she was." I leaned my head against hers and closed my eyes, which turned out to be a big mistake when she suddenly yanked away from me and nailed me with a right cross that had me seeing stars.  
  
"You ASS!" she yelled.  
  
I worked my jaw and blinked at her. "Huh?" Two fists grabbed me and banged me back against the brick wall.  
  
"You think we're all gonna die on you, don'cha? Don'cha!? You listen to me, bub, I'm gonna be seventy-five years old and calling you every other day nagging you to come over and fix my drains and change my lightbulbs and bitchin' about how young people got no respect. You hear me? You're gonna die first, just so you can get away from me!"  
  
She was so outrageous, so typically Jubilee, that I couldn't stop the weak laughter forcing its way out of my chest. Only Jube would think of making me feel better by reassuring me that I would indeed die some day. Hell, who needs a shrink to examine your psyche when Jubilee can peel your head faster than unwrapping a piece of bubble-gum.  
  
"Yeah, darlin', I hear ya."  
  
"I don't believe this!" she fumed. "You really think you'll live longer than me? You've aged a lot since ya lost your adamantium, you know, and I swear to ya, Wolvie, the miles are showing a lot more these days. I even saw a gray hair on you the other day."  
  
On reflex, one hand made it up to my head. The corner of Jubilee's mouth twitched, and one eyebrow went up.  
  
"Well, if there are any, you put 'em there."  
  
"Uh huh." She eyed me critically, then gave me another quick hug that made my ribs creak. They say sorrow shared is sorrow halved, and right then I believed it. I had to admit that I felt a heap better than I did just ten minutes ago.  
  
Jube scooped up her stuff and held out a hand to me. I took it in mine.  
  
'C'mon." She tugged on her hold, and didn't let go as we walked down the sidewalk. The flickering light of yet another bar called to us, and we headed for it without discussion. This joint was more like Hardcase's place, with a full-sized bar and cracked vinyl booths. Pool tables in the back, and a small open space where two couples were shuffling in slow circles to the moldy oldies from the jukebox.  
  
We pulled up a couple of stools at the end of the bar, and the older gent behind the counter just grunted and started lining up the glasses when Jube ordered an even dozen shots of bourbon. We lifted the first pair and clinked them solemnly.  
  
"To Rosie," she said.  
  
"To Rosie," I agreed, and tossed it back.  
  
Gamely, Jubilee tossed hers back as well, the cleared her throat with a rasp. I handed her the next, and took one for myself. We lifted them together, and I gathered my thoughts while I gave her a minute to recover. Her eyes were dark in the dim light, and her hand steady as she held out the shot glass, and it occurred to me that there was no-one else in the world I'd rather be with right now than her.  
  
"To friends that are gone, and friends that are still here," I said. She smiled, just a little, and I think she understood.  
  
We downed our drinks, and this time Jube's eyes started to water. I patted her on the back, only slightly tempted to laugh at her, and the bartender brought her a glass of water when I waved. Jube doesn't have the body mass to drink like I do, and she sure doesn't have my healing factor, shot to hell as it is. She drank the water, then murmured something about the ladies room, pushing the rest of the drinks my way.  
  
There were two shots left when a woman slithered her way onto Jube's barstool and offered me a simpering little smile that left no doubts in my mind what she was after. From the smell pouring off of her, she'd had at least one customer already that night, and it made me tired just thinking about dealing with her.  
  
"I'm waiting for someone, darlin'." I drank the next shot.  
  
"And ain't I someone?" she countered, brassy and sugar sweet all at once. A hand with bright red nail polish swept in and took the last shot of bourbon, and it disappeared between red lips without any effect. The gal was attractive enough in a blowsy, well-worn way, and I'd spent plenty of time in the company of women just like her. Tonight, however, I wanted to spend with Jube, not an on the prowl hooker.  
  
"My name's Linda," she offered, holding the empty glass to her temple, like I didn't already know it was empty. I grunted back at her, then a flash of blue caught my eye, and I looked up to see Jubilee staring at the newcomer with narrowed eyes.  
  
"You wanna get your butt off my seat?" Trust Jubilee to use the least tactful approach. I may not be a gentleman, but I knew how easy it would be start something here, and I don't usually bust up a bar unless I know the place better.  
  
Linda turned on the stool, leaning her elbows back and deliberately showing off a cleavage that you could lose your car keys in. "Aren't you up past your bedtime, little girl?" she purred.  
  
A nasty little smile formed on Jube's mouth, and I stifled a groan. The fastest way to get her knickers in a twist is to call her little girl. It took me a while to learn that, but Linda was about to get the speed readin' version of this lesson.  
  
"What, no bingo at the retirement home tonight?"  
  
"Why, you horrible little…"  
  
"Listen, doll." Jubilee interrupted, putting her weight on one hip and sounding bored. "You know, if you really want him, he's all yours, but he promised me five hundred to spend the whole evening with him. Now, you wanna buy him out, that's fine, but he already owes me a c note for the blow-job in the car, and frankly, I don't think he's got more than two fifty in his wallet."  
  
I could feel my face going red, cause I'd kinda forgotten how to breathe just then. Linda just looked me over once, then apparently decided I wasn't worth it and slid down off the seat.  
  
"He's all yours, dearie."  
  
Jubilee switched out the stool with the one next to it and plopped herself onto it with a smug expression on her face. I coughed and sputtered for a second, staring at the girl beside me with disbelief. Finally, the laughter won out and I just shook my head.  
  
"You're something else, Jube."  
  
"Yep."  
  
The jukebox started up again just then, and when another couple headed into the open area and started swaying slowly, it gave me an idea. I used to love slow dancing with Rosie, back before it was renamed ballroom dancing and dismissed by anyone under the AARP cutoff age.  
  
"Dance with me," I said.  
  
"Huh? You don't dance."  
  
I gave her my best scowl. "I don't jump around and grind on a gal's leg like a damn dog, ya mean. That ain't dancing. C'mon," I demanded. "Dance with me."  
  
She rolled her eyes, but chucked her high heels under the brass kick bar and let me pull her out on the floor. I could understand why they'd hurt, even if I never would understand why women wear the things in the first place. With her in her stockings, my boots let me look down on her for the first time in years, and I couldn't help the little smirk on my face because she'd crowed like a rooster when she turned seventeen and was officially taller than me. The look in her eye told me she knew exactly what I was thinking, and dared me to say anything about it.  
  
I folded my other arm around her, and she snuggled up to my chest and demonstrated the fact that Emma Frost had managed to get a few things besides book learning and world domination through that little head. She followed my lead and matched my steps for a bit before we noticed every other fool out there was staring at us like we were idiots. Well, screw them.  
  
And you know, all the accumulated tension of the last three weeks just seemed to fade away. Jube does that to me. She's my opposite, in a lot of ways, but she has the knack of getting me out of my bad times with an ease that still just floors me. A peaceful sensation came over and I let it settle around me, for one moment in time not thinking about anything at all.  
  
But I still kept one eye open for unexpected rights.  
  
We finished that quarter on the jukebox and had started another when I saw my would-be flame heading out the door. A few seconds later, a guy who was trying for casual and only made it to goofy-looking followed her out. I could feel Jubilee's back shake as she held down the snicker.  
  
'Hope he's got more than two fifty in his wallet."  
  
I resisted the urge to smack her on the butt. "Kid, you're gonna be the death of me."  
  
That earned me a small feminine chuckle. "Don't be stupid, Wolvie. I'm the life of you, and you know it." Her head tucked itself back on my shoulder.  
  
I could say I was hit with one of those epiphany things, but it wasn't bright lights, or the world realigning or some other dumb ass image. It was more like one of Jubilee's patented 'Duh' moments.  
  
She was right. She was my life and my salvation. She'd been yanking my fat out of the fire since the day she met me, and of all the people I've ever known, she alone had never been afraid of me. Afraid for me, maybe, or fully aware that I could kill her in an instant, but never afraid of me no matter how close to the edge or over it I careened. Nobody else could say that, not even the women I'd loved. They had feared me at times as much as they'd loved me, even Jean, and I in return had looked upon them as someone to protect, to cherish. No matter how much I cherished Jubilee, she didn't really need my protection. We were partners, and teammates, and friends.  
  
What more could a man ask for?  
  
I said man, not lizard.  
  
The music kept going, and I concentrated on the feel of the muscles in her back, shifting in time like steel cables under the silky texture of her cobweb dress. She felt wonderful, she smelled wonderful, and damn, she was beautiful. I glanced down at her bare shoulder, the skin a pale honey hue to go with her extraordinary almond eyes, and she must have felt the slight movement of my head because she looked up at me. Her expression was just one of mild inquiry, and could have meant anything from 'are you feeling better now' to 'need to inspect the bathroom before we hit the road?'  
  
And I was perfectly, totally aware and in control as I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her softly.  
  
Her eyelids closed, and she began to kiss me back, then abruptly she shoved me away, her hands clenched in mid-air as multi-colored sparks dripped from her fists and popped and sizzled their way to the floor. Not a good sign. Her eyes flew open and pinned me with a hot blue stare.  
  
"I am not falling in love with you again." She was out the door fast, and I was halfway there myself when I backtracked to get her shoes, then followed her out.  
  
What the hell did she mean by 'again?'  
  
Bare feet don't make a lot of noise on the sidewalk, but I could smell her heading for the parking lot. I caught sight of her dark hair moving through the scattered cars about the same time I picked up the scent of a man. The air was full of smells, the wet, cold concrete and gas and oil and rubber, but this one was fresh and smelled desperate. Crap.  
  
On the far side of our car, Jubilee made an "Eep" sound and disappeared from view. I ran flat out, the red rage of my anger and fear almost drowning out the sound of blows as fists met flesh and the metallic sound of a switchblade being triggered. Desperate, I launched myself over the hood of the car with a roar, my claws popping out, before I realized what I was looking at.  
  
"Jeez, buddy, what kind of an idiot are you?"  
  
Jube was crouching over the semi-prone junkie, fishing a tissue out of her purse and ruthlessly stuffing it up his amazingly bloody nose. Bewildered eyes looked up at her as she rattled on.  
  
"You really gotta be more careful, dude. Look, why don't you go home, or back to your alley or whatever, and I've got two words for you - re and hab. You'll like it there, I hear they're really nice, they've got showers and everything. You could take a bath, 'cause you, like, really reek."  
  
She got a hand under his arm and hauled him up, and he made the mistake of reaching for the knife lying there on the pavement. Jube flicked her fingers at it, and in a haze of plasma melted it into slag.  
  
"Oh no, ya don't. Look, here's a twenty. Get some food, and I mean real food, nothing that comes in a little vial, 'kay? Go home and get some rest, and then you think about that rehab thing."  
  
The strung out fool nodded blankly, tangled hair bobbing, and stumbled away. Jubilee watched him for a second, then turned to where I was leaning against the car, grinning like a fan with a ringside seat. She didn't grin back. She unlocked the passenger door, then tossed the keys to me and got in the car without a word.  
  
I did some thinking while I drove us home. Now, one of the advantages of being around for a while is you get something called experience. Big concept for finally understanding the little things in life. For instance, realizing when you're about to stick your head up your ass. Take all those chick flicks I've endured with Jubilee, the ones that have these people who should know better being swept away by waves of supposed passion and doing stupid things when the mood strikes them like they've never heard of the word 'consequences.' And by the time the credits roll, everything just magically works out. Well, that's why it's called fiction, folks. Real life doesn't work that way, and Consequences should be a four-letter word. Or maybe a five-letter word, one that rhymes with witch.  
  
The consequences of screwing this up would be monumental. I'd lose the most important person in my life. But another thing I've learned after having been around for so long is that time does not stand still, and that point had been brought painfully home to me these last few weeks with Rosie's passing. Things change.  
  
Now, I've loved Jubilee since the first time she told me she had nothing better to do than hang with me, but I'd have to work on my macho attitude. I think she was eleven. And no, I'm not talking anything sick here; I just admired the spunky attitude that covered up such a big heart. And now, things were changing, and experience was telling me that I was on the verge of falling in love again. Teetering, and still able to pull back if I needed to, or cross the line if I wanted.  
  
I glanced at her sitting there, and she still hadn't said a word since muttering 'thank-you' when I turned the heater on in the car. She was my best friend, and I literally could not image my life without having her in it. Did I want to cross that line?  
  
Hell yes, the man in me replied. The inner beast in me growled in approval, 'cause I'd never need to hide it from her.  
  
And we all know what the lizard said, so I guess that makes it unanimous.  
  
I pulled the car into the drive, and moved to intercept her when she headed for the door. She didn't even seem surprised when I got my arm around her and led her out under the trees, 'cause I'll be damned if I'm going to have the most important conversation of my life on the front porch of the house like some sixteen year old.  
  
At the last moment I realized the grass was wet with dew and probably cold as hell, but Jube didn't say a word and I'm sure this wasn't the time to do something stupid and macho like give her my jacket.  
  
"What did you mean by that?" My voice was a little more harsh that I'd planned.  
  
The fuzzy shawl shifted as she shrugged, and she refused to look at me. "I'm not going to fall in love with you again."  
  
"That mean you've been in love with me before?" I asked gruffly.  
  
Of course, the eyes rolled. "You are such a man." No kidding, that wasn't meant as a compliment. I reached out and put one hand on her arm. Those beautiful sapphire eyes finally met mine, and she sighed softly.  
  
"Wolvie, I've fallen in love with you more times than I can count. I always get over it, 'cause I know you don't really think of me that way. But tonight… if I'd let you kiss me, I don't think I could get over it. Not when I know you'd be all embarrassed and 'forget about it, kid' later on."  
  
Her soft voice hit me with more force than all the booze I'd consumed earlier, and warmed me more than it ever could have.  
  
"And what if I don't want you to get over it, Jubilee?" I asked. My other hand found her opposite arm, and I could feel her trembling slightly.  
  
"Logan," she almost moaned, and that answered every question I had.  
  
Jubilee never calls me Logan. Not once, in years, had she addressed me as anything but Wolvie, Wolvster, or an amazing variety of annoying and endearing variations of my code name. Hearing her cross over to that adult, equal to equal name let me know what she really wanted. She wanted me. Triumph, and joy, and several other things for which I really outta get slapped crashed through me.  
  
I let go of her arms, removing the temptation, and both disappointment and relief were evident in her posture. Then that old dog experience let me say something right instead of kissing her thoroughly and dragging her up to my room.  
  
"Have dinner with me."  
  
That got an eyebrow quirked at me. "Dinner," she repeated. "You're talking, dinner, like..." It took her a second. "A date?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"You're asking me out?"  
  
I couldn't help it. I'd never said the word before in my life, but I just couldn't help it.  
  
"Duh," I replied.  
  
She thought about it for a second, and I could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes before they narrowed and her head cocked to one side, that stubborn little chin coming up. One damp toe started tapping in the grass.  
  
"Wear a tie."  
  
"Bolo. Best offer you're getting."  
  
"No honky tonk dives."  
  
"No techno bars," I countered.  
  
"No stuck up French waiters," we said at the same time. She laughed in response, the merry sparkle I loved so much resurfacing -- and then she shivered with the cold, and, damn my arrogant macho male pride, something else. I really wanted to kiss her at that moment, but this was too important to screw up. We had time to do it right.  
  
"Wha'd'ya say?"  
  
"Deal," she said, softly, and held out her right hand.  
  
I took it in mine. "Deal," I agreed. 


	2. Silver Platters

Title: Silver Platters  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Series: Steppin' Out With Wolvie  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics. No profit is made by their use.  
  
  
  
When Wolverine came into the kitchen this morning, I was shoveling Sugar Bombs in my mouth and helping McCoy with the crossword puzzle. Now, I know that sounds weird, 'cause Hank knows basically everything, but the problem is, everything he knows is practical. Like, what's the twenty-third element on the periodic table, and the specific gravity of a slice of toast, things like that. When it comes to useless trivia, though, I'm your gal.  
  
"Hmmm," he frowned at the paper. "The Madonna's firstborn child was Jesus, yet it doesn't fit."  
  
"Lourdes," I muttered around my spoon, trying to pretend my entire focus wasn't on the hairy guy pouring coffee across the room. Scott came in right behind, and they grunted at each other like men do before they have their java fix in the morning. That's why I don't drink the stuff, it must rot the brain if you can't function without it.  
  
Hank peered at me over the top of his reading specs. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Lourdes was Madonna's first kid. L-O-U-R-D-E-S." He blinked at me like I'd lost my mind. "The entertainer, Blue, not the religious chick. Her first kid was named Lourdes."  
  
Time delayed trivia nugget, it finally clicked, and he filled in the letters. "Quite right. Thank you, Jubilee."  
  
"No prob." I poked my breakfast, then shifted towards his furry shoulder. "Is Celia still mad at me?"  
  
"Not angry, Jubilee. Merely disappointed."  
  
"Sorry. I didn't mean to yell at her."  
  
"She knows that. However, you will not be able to put it off indefinitely."  
  
"Can I settle for just definitely?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'll think about it, okay?"  
  
"Please do so."  
  
Hank went back to the crossword, and I scoped out Wolvie again. He was scowling at the pegboard we keep beside the back door that leads to the garage. It holds grocery lists, phone numbers, and most importantly, the keys to the various cars available.  
  
"Hey, Cyke. You got the keys to the Beamer?"  
  
Fearless Leader stuck his hand in his pocket, checking, then scratched his head. We were all a little strung out from the mission the night before. Well, those of us who'd gone, anyway. Rogue was still in bed, but she liked to sleep in after nearly being blown up. I had a headache, and Scott had a nicely bruised ribcage but no broken ribs. Wolvie, of course, was no worse for wear.  
  
"Um, no. Wait, Jean was taking the kids into town for a dentist appointment." That adorable dumb grin he gets when he talks about his kids came up, but it was just a quick flash. After all, the twins are nearly six now. Get over it, already.  
  
"When she gets back, tell her I'm gonna need 'em tonight. Me 'n Jube 're goin' out."  
  
"Where to?" Scott asked idly and stirred his coffee, while I briefly closed my eyes and thanked the universe that he assumed nothing was out of the ordinary.  
  
"That Greek joint. Isle of somethin'." Wolvie raised his voice, like he didn't know I was paying attention already. "Reservation's at six-thirty, darlin'. That work for you?"  
  
"Sounds great," I replied, trying desperately to sound cool and collected, but realized I had a dribble of milk on my lip at the last instant and wiped it off with the back of my hand. Real cool, Lee.  
  
"Cyprus Isle. Jean loves that place. Hey, maybe I can talk Celia into watching the kids and we can…"  
  
"Cyke," Wolvie interrupted, almost growling. "If I wanted to make this a double date, I'd ask ya."  
  
Then he sipped his coffee and dammit all, winked at me. Holy cow. This whole date thing had freaked me out more than I thought, because I hadn't even considered our teammates' reactions until now. I waited for the explosion, but everybody else must be working on a time delay as well this morning. Hank got it sooner, he put down the paper and raised a wooly eyebrow at me.  
  
"Date," Scott muttered. "You and Jubilee have a date tonight?"  
  
"Yep. Got a problem with that?"  
  
Wolvie kept his attention on the mug in his hands, but I knew he was waiting to see what Scott's response would be. Scott looked at me, and then back at Wolvie. And then back at me. Then he reached past Wolvie to the pegboard and pulled a set of keys off it.  
  
"Here, take the Mustang," he said. "Knowing Jean, she'll bring the BMW back with an empty tank." He yawned hugely, filled his cup back up with coffee, and headed back to his office muttering about work to do.  
  
I felt like the governor had called.  
  
When I'd finished college and Scott invited me to join the team again, I had been thrilled. The others had accepted me back with a minimum of fuss and acted as though the last seven years had been only a few months. The problem with that was they occasionally caught themselves editing their comments for my benefit, as if I were still a kid who didn't need to hear the stuff adults talked about. I finally lost my temper one night (like that's a surprise) and climbed onto the dinner table and outlined the fact that I was an adult, legal to smoke, drink, have sex, and discuss religion and politics like any other nutcase on the face of the planet. Maybe not the most mature thing, but hey, it had gotten the point across.  
  
Demonstratively so, since Hank went back to his puzzle without making a comment. Wolvie ruffled my hair on the way out the door, saying he was going to work out in the Danger Room. Wow. Just like that, we were an officially sanctioned couple. A couple who would be driving Scott's vintage baby. Score!  
  
I went back upstairs and muttered an apology to Celia when I went past her, but didn't let her talk me into going back down to the lab so she could poke and prod me some more. I'd had too much of that last night, and not nearly enough sleep, so I lay down on my bed and crashed out for another couple of hours.  
  
When I woke, my headache was down to almost nothing, at least until I rolled over and took a look at my closet. Then I tried not to panic. I had no idea what I was going to wear. Now, everyone is always giving me crap about having too many clothes, and I love clothes, really I do, but unfortunately I'm pretty hard on them. I tear the hems, put holes in the knees, spill stuff on them and otherwise render them completely unwearable, yet I can't bear to part with them. So they linger in my closet, and I get a bad rap for being a clotheshorse when I'm really just trying to avoid being labeled a klutz. I used to envy Emma Frost's poise, but I figured out a long time ago I'm never going to be an ice queen. Pretty obvious, really, considering I do fireworks. Anyway, don't ask me how I can nail a landing on a moving subway car and never miss a punch, but I can't walk across the room without demonstrating my lack of grace.  
  
I considered hiding in my room, but that's not exactly mature, not to mention I'll be where nosy people want to find me. So instead I gathered laundry and hit the utility room. I sorted, pre-treated, folded, fluffed everything I found in there, and every time Jean or Celia or Hank tried to corner me about last night I was very busy, delivering laundry, gotta run. I also cleaned, vacuumed, and dusted.  
  
It was totally out of character for me, but it's also hard for people to question you when you can't hear them over the vacuum cleaner. Bobby was the only person who didn't try to interrogate me, and that's because a) he wasn't at breakfast, and b) wasn't on the mission last night, and c) probably didn't give a damn. He just took the stack of clean jeans and nodded when I told him I was keeping all the change I found when washing them. I didn't tell him I'd found a five-dollar bill in the lint trap.  
  
I grabbed a sandwich in the early afternoon and started getting ready for my date. Breath, Lee. I cannot believe I'm doing this. Shower, check. Shave vital points, check. Dress, this gorgeous white chiffon floaty thing I found at… well never mind. Check. Actually intact pair of white sheer nylons, check. White sandals, need a repair, that's what super glue is for, check.  
  
Rogue popped in while I was doing the hair and make-up thing. I gave her a big hug, and told her I was really, really, sorry about last night, and she said forget it, tell her all about my date. I told her I'd rather she torture me, then confessed that Wolvie had indeed asked me out after the Professor's benefit bash last week.  
  
She wanted details, which is only understandable since her love life has been in the toilet for just about ever. So I swore her to secrecy and laid out the particulars of me taking Logan out for a cheering up, which had culminated with a truly wonderful kiss before I turned chicken and ran off. I had to backtrack about Rose Wu, and why her death was such a bummer. Unfortunately, that meant I also had to outline the fact that Rosie and 'Patch' had been an item about forty years ago, which did jack all for my state of mind.  
  
"Don't you worry about that, sugah," Rogue reassured me. "If Logan's finally figured out how good you've grown up, don't let the fact that he's a little older than you give you the willies."  
  
"A little older than me?" I protested. "For cryin' out loud, Rogue, the guy has lapped me! You could take a hundred years off him, and he'd probably still be too old!" I buried my face in my hands. "God, this is a stupid idea!"  
  
"Now, you knock that off right now, ya hear?" Strong, leather-covered fingers grabbed me and shook me hard enough to make my head spin. "Do you want him?"  
  
I swallowed hard. "Yeah."  
  
"How long? How long you been wanting him?"  
  
"Years," I muttered. Honesty sucks. Though of all of us, Rogue knows more about not getting what you want than anyone should ever be required to learn.  
  
"I know you have, sugah. I've seen it, ever since you stopped being a little girl. So don't let little problems get between you and what you want."  
  
"What if they're big problems?" I whispered, then shook her hands off and went back to my makeup job. "You're right, Sis. Thanks. And, you know, I'm really sorry about last night."  
  
"Oh, would you shut up about that, I told ya it was nothin'.  
  
"Besides," she said with a smile, standing up and handing my little white purse to me, "I think your date just showed up."  
  
Wolvie stood in the doorway, looking at me. Shit. Hope he didn't hear what we were just saying. Probably not, Rogue had been facing the door, and she would have warned me, right? Shit.  
  
"You look nice," he said, looking me up and down. Normally, when a guy does that, he's checking you out. Logan may notice the highlights, but he really is taking in all the details. Ask him in two days, and he'll be able to tell you what color my shoes were and whether or not I had a little clip in my hair. (I did, just because that one sprig of hair will not lay down right.) It might be part of the predator in him, or it might just be the way he is. Either way, it's one of the things I love about him.  
  
I didn't just say that, did I?  
  
"You look very nice, too." And when I gave him the same once over, he really did. He was wearing slacks and a sports coat, a white shirt with the string tie we'd negotiated, and he'd shaved. I mean, really shaved, and trimmed his mutton chop sideburns. Wow. He offered me his arm, and we went down the stairs together.  
  
The moment was definitely surreal, especially when Bishop, Mr.-Mount- Rushmore-has-more-expression-than-I-do, winked at me. Logan must have caught my surprise, because he stopped and asked me what was wrong.  
  
"Nothing's wrong, really. This is just kinda… weird, ya know?"  
  
He scowled at me, not his ferocious scowl but the 'what are you talking about' scowl. "Weird how?"  
  
"You. Me. On a date. Just a little weird. It's okay, really." Heck, now I felt bad. I felt even worse when he turned me around and hauled me towards the front foyer, where he stopped me with his hands on my shoulders.  
  
"Don't move."  
  
And then the big jerk took off back towards the kitchen! I'm standing here, purse in hand, feeling like a complete idiot. All I could hear was the ticking of the big clock in the hall. Is it possible to be stood up after your date already shows up? No, that's called being ditched. Hmm. Never been ditched before I even got out of the house.  
  
"Jube?" Oh god, it gets worse.  
  
"Yeah Bobby?" I tried to sound casual, but Popsicle Boy came down the hall and stared at me.  
  
"What are you doing? Got a date?"  
  
"Yes, I do," I replied.  
  
"So… why are you standing here?"  
  
"I have no idea." I said firmly.  
  
About that time, a knock came at the front door. Nobody EVER uses the front door unless we're having a huge party, which is maybe once a year if we're lucky, or if for some reason a cab gets called out. You can't even drive up to it, you have to walk a ways from the circle drive that leads to the common entrance. Bobby frowned at the door, probably wondering if he should answer it or call the rest of the team and blast it. He looked at me, but I had no idea either. He finally got brave and opened it.  
  
Logan stood out there. "Hey. I'm here to pick up Jubilee."  
  
Bobby gave me a puzzled look, but I was busy grinning at Logan. "You are such a goof."  
  
He only smiled, then took his hand from behind his back. A single pink rose from the garden was in his large, calloused fingers.  
  
"Ro's going to kill you," I warned him.  
  
"She'll have to catch me," he replied. "You ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm ready." I took the rose, and kissed him on the cheek. Amazing. I suddenly felt like I was on a date.  
  
We had a wonderful time at dinner. I have no idea what we talked about, but I've never heard Logan laugh or even talk that much in a single evening. Okay, I did most of the talking, but he did more than grunt, which is actually unusual, and only once did I have to remind myself that I was not just eating dinner with an old bud, but on a bona fide male/female outing.  
  
The food was great, and the place is run by people who are actually Greek, but one of their best features is they have a belly dancer. Now, most people get kinda weird about belly dancers, they think they're strippers or something. Nothing doing, she never takes off anything but her veil and then she wraps herself up in it again. Anyway, this babe is about forty years old and has to weigh close to two hundred pounds, but when she starts doing her thing she can make the trousers tight on any man she bothers to smile at. I'd give a lot to have that effect on a guy. Particularly the one sitting across from me. Logan caught me looking at him, and reached out to take my hand before I could pull it back. His fingers laced with mine, his thumb rubbing my palm while we watched the show.  
  
After dinner, we hit the sidewalk instead of getting the car and just kept walking. The moon had come out while we were inside, fuller than the night before, and the streetlights weren't really necessary. There were windows to look at, and the more I talked, the less Wolvie talked. I was feeling nervous anyway, and I don't know why, so I finally just shut up.  
  
"What's buggin' you, darlin'?"  
  
"Nothin."  
  
This was a game we played often, so he just grunted and waited me out. I sighed.  
  
"Promise me something, Wolvie."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Promise me that no matter how bad we screw this up, we'll still be friends."  
  
He laughed, that incredible baritone rumble that makes your back arch just a little. "This is our first date, Jube. Little early to be startin' that speech, ain't it?"  
  
"It's just-- I don't - I don't want to lose you. I couldn't take that. I'd rather stay your bud than try to be something more and end up something less."  
  
He stopped walking and pulled me into his arms. "Don't you think you should give this a chance before you start giving it the post-mortem?"  
  
"Give what a chance?" I asked, trying for a light tone. "You haven't even made a pass at me."  
  
"A pass, huh?" A gleam came into his eye, and his fingers slid down my arm to tighten around my hand. He brought it up and kissed my fingers like Remy does when he's feeling very suave, or had a few. But Logan's mouth was a lot different that Remy's, and when he turned my hand over and pressed another kiss into my palm, it got a lot more reaction going than Gumbo ever did. The shivers started when he kissed the pulse on my wrist, and he kept working his way up my arm.  
  
All right, it looked really freaking stupid when Gomez did it to Morticia, but, believe me, they were on to something and Logan knew what that something was. For instance, the inside of the elbow and the collarbone are vastly overlooked erogenous zones, and a man who knows what he's doing can make you melt without his hands ever straying into the no-fly zones.  
  
Which only makes me wonder what will happen when he does.  
  
"Okay," I managed, when I remembered how to talk. "That was definitely a pass." That got me a knowing smirk, and he kept his arm around me as we resumed walking.  
  
We found this little park, not much more than a small square of grass and trees, but the wrought iron fence was pretty. We walked up to the railing and stopped; and when I looked at Logan he had his eyes closed, breathing in through his nose as he scented the night air. We weren't expecting any trouble, (of course, since when does that matter) but it just gets to be a habit to check things out. His face was relaxed in the light, the lines around his mouth fainter than usual. He looked incredibly peaceful.  
  
Automatically I turned to face the other way, checking behind us, and saw only a passing car and a tired looking business man making his way towards the subway entrance. The curlicues on the fence dug into my behind as I leaned against the fence, and too late I remembered what rust does to white chiffon. Figures.  
  
A warm arm went around my shoulders, and I leaned into the solid bulk of him. Man, it doesn't get much better than this.  
  
"Jube?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You gonna let Celia do those tests on you?"  
  
I shrugged as well as I could. "Maybe."  
  
"It's not like you to back down, Jubilee."  
  
My throat hurt suddenly, and I realized I was afraid. The problem with being offered everything you've ever wanted, on a silver platter even, is that it can be taken away. If you don't want, then you can't get hurt when you don't get it. I've operated on that principal for years, and it's done fine for me. But Logan wasn't threatening to take it away. He was just waiting for me, and I was acting like a damned virgin on prom night.  
  
I bit my lip, feeling trapped. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Okay," he mumbled, digging out a cigar and lighting it.  
  
"I mean it, Wolvie."  
  
"I heard ya, kid." He puffed several times, getting the cherry well started, then blew out a stream of smoke. "So. How 'bout them Yankees?"  
  
"GODDAMMIT!" I shouted, twisting around kicking the railing. Which only hurt a whole lot and left me hopping up and down, in too much pain to even curse. Logan steered me towards a bench and sat me down, taking my injured toes in his lap and making sure they were all still attached while I fumed.  
  
  
  
It had been a typical mission -- they weren't good ol' FOH, but some splinter group with more gumption and fewer brains; by the time they were done getting themselves organized and on the move, the Professor's little network of spies and informers had their butts nailed as to where and when. The target was a large office building, several floors of which were occupied by the corporation of a big cheese businessman who happened to support mutant rights. Think an updated version of the old burning cross on the front yard, he was supposed to be an example.  
  
We caught them in the act of breaking and entering, and vandalism, which is to say they went through those offices like a pack of howler monkeys. Low- grade stuff compared to some. We could have probably tipped the police off and stayed home.  
  
The cops were called, the drama was over, and then as we were getting ready to bug out, I saw one of the cretins smirk. I pulled him up by his collar and asked him what the fuck was so funny, because suddenly and inexplicably, I was furious. He didn't answer, but his jaw was working like he was getting ready to spit in my face (believe me, you get to recognize things like that) and suddenly I knew the answer.  
  
"There's a bomb," I shouted, and ran back into the office complex, with Wolverine and Rogue hot on my heels. And somehow, I knew exactly where it was; in the main elevator lobby, where in about nine hours, dozens of people would be trying to hitch a ride on the elevators to go to their everyday jobs, never realizing it would be the last moment their lives would be considered everyday boring.  
  
I yanked the access panel open. Of course, it was booby-trapped; the timer reset itself the instant I moved the panel. It was a huge ass wad of plastique and a couple of sticks of construction grade dynamite for that extra dash of something special, all stuck on the inside. I wrenched the panel up off its hinges and heaved the whole thing at Rogue. It weighed a ton and there was no way I could tote it out.  
  
"Go long!" I shouted, and she did, crashing through the skylight and winging that mother out like an insane frisbee just before it blew. The concussion knocked her out of the sky, and she hit the police van in the parking lot hard enough that she put a dent in the roof and one of the tires popped. I would love to have been there when they explained it to their insurance guy.  
  
Rogue insisted she was fine, but Cyclops had gotten jumped by a few of the goons who thought they could take him by himself. That's how he ended up with bruised ribs. Well, great, I'd saved the day. But now, everyone wanted to know how I knew about the bomb, and if I hear the words latent telepathy one more time, I'm going to scream.  
  
  
  
"I don't want to be a telepath," I muttered, trying not to sound like a five-year-old. Logan was rubbing my foot, which was really nice.  
  
"What's wrong with bein' a telepath?" He sounded like it was no big deal, but the old pain just slid through me until I had to clench my hands and my eyes and every muscle in my body to keep it from screaming out of me.  
  
What was wrong with it? What was wrong with twitching even the tiniest fraction towards being anything like Ms. Jean Gray-Summers, Ms. I'm- perfection-and-Logan-worships-her-with-every-fiber-in-his-testosterone- laden-body? Just to fail miserably, because you'll never measure up to that kind of competition? What's wrong with wanting a man who really wants something else, someone else, that he can't have?  
  
Everything, that's what's wrong.  
  
Logan just sat there, smoking that damned cigar with my ridiculous bare foot in his lap. He had not been there when I was demoted to the minor leagues, sent off to boarding school like a pet no one else had been willing to look after. He hadn't been there when Bastion kidnapped and tortured me. For the first time ever, I felt hurt and resentful that Logan had not rescued me from Bastion. He hadn't even known I was missing, not that he could have done anything about it from his detention cell in the same complex. He had been with Jean, and the others, and they hadn't needed me and they hadn't known I was missing. Some remote and somehow rational portion of my brain tried to point out the flaws in my logic, the fact that I had rescued them, but I'm good at ignoring things I don't want to hear.  
  
That silver platter was out there, but by god, I was not going to take leftovers. I was not going to be leftovers. If that meant I was never going to have what I really wanted, well, so what? I've survived worse.  
  
"I don't want to be a Jean stand-in."  
  
Vaguely I realized his fingers had stopped moving on my foot.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
It was hard to keep my breathing even. "I don't want to be what you settled for."  
  
His hand moved so fast it was only a blur as he grabbed my wrist. I think I really made him mad. Logan angry is nothing you want to mess with. The cigar went spinning away in the darkness as he yanked me to my feet.  
  
"Do you really think pissing me off is the way to get me to back away from you?"  
  
"Maybe," I muttered.  
  
"Dammit, Jube! Yes, I love Jean, but even without Summers in the picture, I doubt I would ever be what she needs. But how I feel about her has nothin' to do with what you and I are workin' on here. You are not a shadow or a copy of something else. You are uniquely yourself, and I wouldn't want you any other way."  
  
He couldn't be serious, could he? Did he really want Jubilation Lee, not Jubilee-instead-of Jean/Mariko/Silver Fox? I don't think so. His dark eyes bored into mine, and I hated that the emotional turmoil within me reduced me to begging, hated the tears that refused to stay away.  
  
"Do you want me?" I could hear my voice shaking, and I hated it, too.  
  
The answer was not verbal. He kissed me thoroughly, using every trick he knew to overwhelm my defenses. It was hard, and hot, and merciless, and I'm pretty sure there were several violations of the no-fly zones, but my radar went down in flames. I was quivering by the time his hand cupped my cheek and his fingers slid into my hair, and he spent several moments letting me collect myself. I think he was collecting himself, as well.  
  
"I don't want this to be some half-assed fling, Logan," I whispered against his mouth.  
  
"You ever known me to do anything half-assed?" he growled, and kissed me again.  
  
"And I don't want to be convenient," I warned him.  
  
I felt his broad chest, flush against mine, sigh.  
  
"Fer Christ's sake, darlin', the last thing you are is convenient."  
  
And you know, I think that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard.  
  
We finally started walking again. Logan had a hold of my hand, my arm tucked through his. In his other hand he carried my shoes, which made me wonder for the first time what had happened to the shoes I'd been wearing the last time we went out. Oh, well.  
  
"Do you think I ought to go back down to the lab and let Celia poke me again?"  
  
"Maybe in the morning. It's getting late."  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  
When we'd gotten back to the mansion last night, the Professor was intrigued, Celia was excited, Hank was puzzled, and Bishop was not the least bit surprised, which just jacked up everybody else's self-winding mechanism. They were shining lights in my eyes, talking about cat scans and breakthroughs and when Celia came at me with a big ass needle so she could get a blood sample, I had a hissy fit that hit about a 8.9 on the Richter scale. I started yelling and throwing things and pulling those little sticky bits off of me and damn it, those suckers hurt coming off, which hadn't helped my temper tantrum any.  
  
Logan had just stood there, leaning against the wall, until I yelled at him too, and then he asked what took me so long. So I stormed out and slammed every door along the way until I was at my own room, and slammed it a couple of times as well.  
  
  
  
"I guess I ought to. Maybe tomorrow afternoon."  
  
"I'll go with ya, if ya want."  
  
"I'd like that." I thought for a minute. "Hank said Celia wasn't mad at me. Was she?"  
  
"Nah. We all know you, Jubilee, and they should have known better. I'm s'prised you put up with it as long as you did."  
  
I made a noise that wasn't quite a laugh. "Ya know, I didn't hear it, or see it in his sick little head, or anything like that. I just knew. Kinda like I suddenly remembered something I had never known to begin with."  
  
"Yeah, I figured that was the case. Hank and I had a talk last night, after ya blew yer stack. He thinks you're clairvoyant, not telepathic."  
  
I thought about that. Telepaths work from what other people's thoughts tell them, but clairvoyant abilities involve the universe just letting you in on the secret. It doesn't work predictably, but I think my poker playing days were over.  
  
"I can deal with that."  
  
I considered that silver platter while we walked. It was there, and all I had to do was reach for it. The question is, though, am I brave enough to make that reach? I rubbed my fingertip over the silky hair on the back of the fingers wrapped around mine. Here, in my hand, was something I'd wanted for as long as I'd known what wanting was. Did I have the courage?  
  
At that moment, he lifted my hand and pressed it to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the sidewalk in front of us. It was just a random gesture of affection.  
  
Did I have the courage?  
  
You bet your ass I do.  
  
The valet brought out Cyclops' little red toy, none the worse for wear, and Logan and I shared a guilty grin as we slid into the lovingly restored leather seats. Scott always did have good taste. Just look at Jean.  
  
On the way home, Logan took my hand again and I breathed in the scent of his cigar and after-shave, with the underlying hint that was the man. I loved the feeling of safety in his arms, but more than that I feel complete when we're together.  
  
The others may see me as the scatterbrained firecracker, and Logan as just the indestructible warrior. What our teammates don't always understand is that Logan has wounds in his soul that time will never heal. They just sit there hurting, like a triple-A road rash that hasn't yet realized it's supposed to be bleeding, but the pressure of air on it sucks your breath away so you can't even scream. The thing is, his raw wounds and mine sort of match up, and we protect each other. We fit together, and we make each other whole. The possibility that we would be together, in the way that Scott and Jean are together, gave me hope that someday I could heal those wounds for him, and he could heal mine as well. And that felt like an astounding offer and an awesome promise of a future that I'd never believed to be possible.  
  
We parked the car in the big garage and walked into the silent house entwined around each other. He walked me to my door, and I turned around, wondering.  
  
"No," he answered, before I could ask if he was coming in. "Not yet."  
  
"Why not?" I was actually a little relieved, this night had been intense, but hurt to think that he didn't want me. Well, that notion was quickly routed when he pulled me to him and kissed my earlobe, the rasp of his chin stubble on my neck making it hard for me to think.  
  
"Not yet, Jubilee. I want to do this right." He pulled back and framed my face with his huge, rough hands. "I want to give you every chance to change your mind."  
  
I traced his lower lip with my finger, and from the way his breathing changed, knew it affected him. "You could always change it back, just by kissing me."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind."  
  
"You won't need to," I whispered, and leaned into him, my hands behind his neck and his hands sliding down my back, absolutely intoxicated by the feel of his hard arms around me, his hard stomach and thighs against mine, and dammit, yes, the evidence of his arousal against my belly. For the first time ever, instead of making me nervous or embarrassed, it felt natural, and right, and wonderful.  
  
"Good," he whispered back and kissed me softly, slowly, then disentangled us until we were standing with air between us.  
  
"Goodnight, Jubilee."  
  
I turned the doorknob and gave him a small smile.  
  
"Goodnight, Logan." And then I went in, and shut the door behind me. 


	3. Deliberate Steps

Title: Deliberate Steps  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Series: Steppin' Out With Wolvie  
  
Rating: R (No kidding, we're talking steamy here)  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics. No profit is made by their use.  
  
  
  
For me, the start of a mission usually goes the same way. We all scramble into our uniforms, go to the briefing, then head for the jet. The last thing I do, always, is to grab my ray-bans and spit out my gum. The gum spitting part didn't use to be part of the ritual until somebody surprised me one night and I almost choked to death when the gum went the wrong way. It's a good thing the slam to the floor worked as a make-shift Heimlich, or it could have gone down in history as being the most embarrassing way ever for an X-man to buy the farm.  
  
I won't even try to describe a typical mission, except to say the only thing they have in common is that they have very little in common. Tonight, for instance, we were treated to a sixties flashback, if you go for the bad parts of the civil rights era. This very nice mutant neighborhood had a bunch of rednecks terrorizing them. One idiot was even wearing a white sheet, though I think the Klan would have been embarrassed to claim him. The good news was that none of them could shoot straight, which is why I've got a nasty burn on my neck. Hank put some goop on it as we headed home.  
  
"Fear not, Jubilee. The carbon particles will eventually work their way out of your skin."  
  
"Like a blackhead?" I asked, totally grossed out. Blue just gave me that 'being patient with the patient' look, and told me to keep putting the salve on it.  
  
The ends of the mission are the truly illuminating bit. Depending on how we get home, or if we get home, that usually tells the tale of how things went. Or, to paraphrase the cliché, any mission you walk away from is a good one. If it was a really good one, we might order a pizza fest. Bad ones are when the team ends up hanging out in the Med Lab, with lots of angst and tears. This one was a middling ending, so we all just went our own way. I hit the shower and got most of that greasy stuff washed off, and got rid of the smell of gunpowder in my hair.  
  
By the time I got dressed again it was only ten, much too early for any self-respecting single chick under the age of thirty to go to bed. I wandered around, checked the fridge. Damn. No cookie dough. The media room was all mine, but even after three flips through the channels (and we get LOTS of channels) I couldn't find anything to watch.  
  
Bobby and Hank were sharing a six-pack of domestic on the back patio, but I took the hint after they both glared at me. I only suggested juggling the beer, I wouldn't have actually done it. I don't even know how to juggle.  
  
I finally gave in to my impulse and went looking for Logan. He'd been acting growly for a couple of days, and even if I was his … whatever I was, I knew better than to bug him when he's that way. But sometimes, knowing better and actually acting that way are two different things. I found him in the kitchen, coming in from the garage, and he was wearing his leather jacket. Crap. Jacket meant going out. Solo, on the bike, Rebel Without a Cause time, not that I've ever seen the movie, but I've heard it's good. I gave him a brilliant smile, cause I didn't really care that he was going to go off on his own and leave me to die of boredom. Really. Don't care.  
  
He just said "hey," under his breath and started putzing around in the junk drawer. We keep twist ties and spare screwdrivers and other priceless nonsense in there. God only knows what he was looking for.  
  
I grabbed a soda out of the fridge like that was what I was after to begin with and hopped on the counter while I watched him. Actually, watching Logan move is always good entertainment, if a little on the frustrating side. He's built, and I mean nearly as wide as he is tall above the waist, but below the waist… Down, girl. Down! Early on, when Logan and I first started this thing, I made a vow to myself not to push him. Every step we've taken, I've been following his lead. It's been slow and often frustrating, but watching Logan's determination not to rush things has shown me facets of him that I've never seen before. I'm kinda curious to see how things go, because I want to be able to look back on this time and savor the memories.  
  
At least, that's what I tell myself at times like this, because what I really want is to launch myself at him and see if the kitchen table is as sturdy as I think it is. I mean, really, that cold shower mumbo-jumbo is just shit. Who came up that, anyway? You're still horny, but now you're just cold and wet and horny.  
  
I must not be doing something right.  
  
A deck of cards landed on the counter next to me, along with a handful of other junk. I picked them up and flipped the edges with my thumb. The rubber band around them was disintegrating. I started to make a joke about playing strip poker, then thought better of it.  
  
"Wanna play some cut-throat Gin? I'll spot you twenty points."  
  
"I'm headin' down to Hardcase's place," he muttered, still digging for something in the drawer.  
  
"Oh. Okay." Solitaire. Yippee.  
  
He slammed the drawer shut.  
  
"You comin?"  
  
"Why not?" I tossed off.  
  
YIPPEE!!!  
  
  
  
Logan never wears a helmet. I'm not sure how much of that is the fact that he hates to have his ears covered and how much is the fact that deep down, he doesn't want to look like a dork. But he always tries to make me wear one when we go out on his scoot. Usually I comply, but tonight I was not in the mood. He tossed me the thing, and the smell of the various people on the rotting rubber just didn't do anything for me. Smells have become more important to me since I started dating a man who's got a better sniffer than a customs dog.  
  
"Look, Logan. I just got shot at by a bunch of no-neck morons. I'm feeling a little indestructible. So forget it."  
  
"Yer funeral."  
  
"Only if you're driving." I smiled when I said it, but he got a funny look on his face. Hey, it was a joke. I kissed him on the cheek as I climbed on behind him. "At least you'll be there, if it is."  
  
We've only gone to Hardcase's once or twice since our odd courtship began, but the regular crowd pretty much ignores you unless you're wearing a do-me- now leather. My Yankees shirt and jeans didn't even register.  
  
A beer appeared on the bar as soon as Harry saw us walk through the door. I've tried to develop a taste for that stuff, but all it does for me is leave a taste in my mouth like I've been eating raw bread dough. Ugh. I ordered a seven & seven, and Harry didn't even card me -- whether that was because I was with Logan, or the fact that Harry didn't care, I don't know. I do know it's not because I'm finally starting to look my age, because I have to trot out my driver's license everywhere else even though I've been legal for a few years now.  
  
Logan went off to snag us a pool table, and I wandered over to the pinball machines in the corner. I'd like to try playing one, but I've got bad luck with electronic games. I get pissed, and the next thing I know the buttons are starting to melt and I'm heading back to the store for another Nintendo. The guy playing it looked up at me and gave me what he probably thought was a devastating smile. Unfortunately, I ended up grinning back at him, not because I was interested but because it was such a blatant come- on it was funny. I turned away before he could ask me to bear his children, and saw Logan pulling down a couple of cues from the rack. He racked up the balls, let me break, and we were off.  
  
We ran the table without much discussion, but it was therapeutic in a controlled violence and booze kind of way. Logan likes to play pool the way he drinks: minimum movement and very little conversation. I've thought about trying to talk the Professor into buying a pool table, but we'd probably need new intake manifolds on the Blackbird or something.  
  
A couple of biker types moved in when we finished our second game, and some bills hit the side of the table. Logan just grunted, and peeled out some cash. One of them turned out to be the guy from the pinball game, and he gave me a look that started at my feet and wandered – slowly – up to my face. He was handsome enough if you liked the soap opera villain type, but I preferred my men a little more worn around the edges. Wolvie was acting like he wasn't paying any attention, but I knew better. If this guy were any smarter, he would have known better too.  
  
"You with someone, babydoll?"  
  
Babydoll? Get real. I jerked a thumb towards short, dark, and hairy.  
  
"I'm with him."  
  
Handsome actually looked at Logan, then shrugged and stepped up to me. "So?"  
  
I laughed. "You don't come here very often, do you?"  
  
"If I'd known you were here, I'd've been around a lot earlier."  
  
"Smooth talker," I accused him lightly, and walked past him to take my shot.  
  
Another drink showed up at my elbow as I was sinking out last ball. We'd won, but it had been close, and Handsome's buddy shelled out some more cash and set up the table again. Logan broke this time, but nothing sank. The other guy ran several shots while I watched, leaning on my pool cue and trying to ignore the less than subtle imposition on my personal space as Handsome tried to sneak up behind me.  
  
When my turn came, he didn't back off. I lined up my shot based on the body heat behind me and the sound of his breathing, and drew back my cue a lot further than necessary. The sound of his breath sucking in went nicely with the thwack of the balls being knocked around. Across the pool table, I mean.  
  
His buddy laughed out loud, and Logan gave that infinitesimal smirk of his, so I went around the table and kissed him before my next shot. I got a bad bank after sinking the next ball, and then Handsome moved in like he was a hot shot. Okay, he was pretty good on the pool table, but I'm sure he was not nearly as good as he thought he was in other areas. To give him a little credit, though, he certainly had the smoldering intense stare down.  
  
We lost the game, not only because the bud got a good couple of shots in, but also because Logan seemed distracted. And not because he was worried about some jerk coming on to his girl. He would have already introduced Mr. Personality to the floor if he were in the mood for a bar fight. I could tell he was getting annoyed, though, because Handsome apparently thought I was a challenge. I could see Logan shift his cigar in his mouth, and it's a bit ominous when he starts rubbing his knuckles. Frankly I was getting tired of this guy not catching a hint.  
  
I finally had had enough when I was lining up a tricky shot and didn't notice he was pushing his luck until I felt a hand run up the inside of my leg. He made a nice choking noise when I grabbed his paw and applied just a little more pressure than necessary to the nerve cluster in the meat between his thumb and hand. He went to his knees when I grabbed his thumb and bent it in a direction it wasn't meant to go.  
  
"You know, if you got your hand broken or something, you'd have to forfeit the game. You don't want to forfeit, do ya?"  
  
Handsome shook his head and I let him go. When I looked up at Logan after I missed my shot, the corner of his mouth twitched, so I went over to him and let him drape his arm around me while I nuzzled his sideburns. For a guy with that much testosterone, Logan has incredible self-control. Especially when I stole his cigar and puffed on it myself. Hey, when there's that much smoke in a place, smoking your own is the only form of self-defense you've got.  
  
"Anybody else did that, I'd gut 'em," he said mildly.  
  
"Yeah, well, there are advantages to being your girlfriend." I was asking for it, and got it when he used a move he'd never taught me to twist me into his arms and reclaim his cigar, all in a tenth of a second. Maybe less. The display was not lost on Handsome, so when we resumed the game, he always managed to be on the other side of the table from me.  
  
I think we were both bored of pool by the time we lost the last game, so Logan settled up while I retrieved his jacket from the coat rack. I was surprised, however, when he draped it over my shoulders and told me to drive.  
  
Teaching me the art of riding his Harley has been an ongoing project for a couple of weeks, and even though I've got it down pretty good, it's always fun to feel him behind me while I try to master a clutch lever with one hand and shift gears with my toe. Distracting, but fun.  
  
There's a long stretch of road near home that's actually bordering on the mansion grounds. I leaned back into Logan's warm chest, because while it was a mild evening, zipping along at even a relatively sedate forty miles an hour was a little breezy, and I'd neglected to zip up the jacket. Logan's hands were warm on my waist and, dummy me, it took a moment to register the fact that his fingers were stroking the bare skin of my stomach under my shirt.  
  
It was nice and friendly, but when his hands rose until he was brushing the underside of my breasts with the back of his hands, I had to bite my lip. I concentrated desperately on the road ahead as ever so slowly he stroked my sides, while his mouth wet and hot on my neck. I gasped as he finally cupped my aching breasts in his hands.  
  
It was hard to hear him in the wind passage as he whispered a question in my ear. "Too much?" His voice was rough, and sent a shiver down my back. It was the first time he'd ever touched me like this. I shook my head, intoxicated by the feel of my hair and his sideburn meshing.  
  
"Not nearly enough," I replied, truthfully.  
  
His hands left, and I cussed inwardly, knowing I shouldn't have pushed. He snarled something, I didn't quite understand what, but his hands were suddenly out from under my shirt and shoving mine off the handlebars, his thighs hard under mine as he toed my feet off the pegs. I had to clutch at the gas tank as he slowed the bike, then geared down sharply and turned off the road into the woods, diving down what appeared to be a deer trail. We bounced over the rough ground, and when he cut the engine I fell back against him at the same time he reached for me and pulled me off it with a fierce economy of effort.  
  
Logan knows these woods thoroughly, he's spent days wandering through the grounds and surrounding countryside when life indoors gets to be too much for him. I wasn't surprised when a small grassy clearing opened, and I sure wasn't complaining when he yanked me into his arms and started kissing me.  
  
I forget sometimes how incredibly strong his arms are, arms that pulled me up against him as he plundered my mouth, his hands roaming everywhere. I was just as greedy, delighting in the feel of his hard chest under my palms. His mouth was hot on my collarbone and down the line of my throat as I felt the buttons of my shirt coming undone. I arched my neck, giving him access to anything he might want.  
  
Since I was old enough to figure out what all the giggling was about in school, I've wanted this man. Oh, I know I was too young, but every girl dreams of her ideal, and Logan has always been that dream. And I know Logan feels that sex is far too casual, and that's why he's insisted on taking the time to let me be sure of what we're feeling before we make a mistake. More than once he'd refused to rush, regardless of how eager I was. I've felt like we've been doing some elaborate dance, one with which he's familiar but I'm not. Maybe it's because he really does come from an era where men led and women followed, and so I've tried hard to let him lead. Even when it drove me crazy.  
  
All that craziness was coming back, and it was a good thing my hands were busy exploring, because otherwise I'd have been shooting fireworks into the sky, I was so happy. A small laugh found it's way out of my chest.  
  
"What," he murmured against the lace of my bra.  
  
"If I'd known getting a moron to come on to me would have had this result, I'd have tried to make you jealous a long time ago."  
  
He cupped my face in one hand. "Ain't about jealousy." His deep dark eyes bored into mine. I frowned slightly, thrown by his intensity.  
  
"Then, what?" I was genuinely puzzled.  
  
"Got more to do with this," he replied. His gaze fell to my neck, and one blunt finger traced the burn on my neck. He bent forward and kissed the raw skin, his lingering caress equal parts pain and pleasure.  
  
Our uniforms have Kevlar layers in them now. Catching the edges of a shotgun blast on my reinforced chest or back probably wouldn't have hurt me too bad, but the powder burn on my neck had been an extremely close call, and still gave me the willies when I thought about it.  
  
"I don't want to lose you," he whispered quietly against my skin.  
  
I wasn't sure what to say; it's not like I can promise I'll never get hurt. Life as an X-man doesn't work that way; that's why Scott and Jean don't usually go out on the same mission together. They don't want to take the chance of their kids losing both parents at the same time.  
  
"I don't want to be lost," is all I could come up with. It seemed to be enough.  
  
Slower, more deliberately, his jacket and my shirt were pulled off my shoulders as we stared at each other. I felt both helpless and powerful as his finger found the front latch between my breasts and hooked it open, and I shivered as my bra cups fell from me and exposed my upper body to the faint starlight and Logan's enhanced sight.  
  
I had to close my eyes; the reverent light in his eyes as he touched me was exquisite. Somehow I managed to get his t-shirt off and the brush of his chest against mine was enough to make me moan, the hard planes of his muscles and the whispering counterpoint of all that hair.  
  
The jerk of my jeans being unbuttoned sent a jolt through me to make weak in the knees. And then he was lowering me to the ground and I really was weak and mindless and oh my god, having trouble forming a coherent thought.  
  
And then I quit trying to think at all.  
  
It seemed like a very long time before I could focus on the fact that Logan was still kneeling between my knees, a feral darkness shrouding his eyes. I sat up slowly and reached for his belt buckle, and was bitterly not surprised when he grabbed my hands and kept them away from him.  
  
"No, darlin', not yet," he murmured.  
  
"I could…" I started to offer, but he shook his head, refusing to allow me to do to him what he'd just done to me. Looking down at his hands clenched around mine, I asked him for something for the first time since we'd started this.  
  
"Let me see you," I whispered. I thought he might refuse, but finally he reached for the belt buckle, unhooked it, and unbuttoned the brass button.  
  
I watched as he stood and peeled the denim off his lean hips, saw the man in his full stature for the first time. The smell of aroused male reached me as he knelt again and I swear, some of the beast within him was within me as I reached down to my thighs to gather my own fluid and daub it onto my belly. The slightest touch of my hands on his chest drew him down, his nostrils flaring at my scent on the fingers close to his neck. He moved over me, his manhood firm and hard in the skin below my navel as I lay back and held onto his biceps as he thrust against the wet skin I'd prepared for him.  
  
The sense of power I'd felt earlier was back as I experienced the desire he had for me, felt him shudder and lose control, thrusting hard into my stomach. With a subsonic growl that vibrated through our bones, he bit down on my neck hard enough to leave a bruise just opposite the burn.  
  
After a moment he grabbed the t-shirt I'd pulled off of him earlier and tucked it between us. "Sorry about the mess," he murmured, almost embarrassed sounding. He pulled back a moment later, and I knew the man was annoyed at the primal instincts that had just been displayed. He went to clean my stomach, trying to wipe away the evidence of his passion, and something inside me snapped.  
  
I grabbed his hand, hard, and when his eyes met mine, I deliberately drew the fabric down between my thighs, marking myself with his thick essence. Our scents were mingled, and in his eyes the beast flared with fierce approval. I was his mate, and anything with a sense of smell would know it. After a long moment, Logan sighed and closed his eyes.  
  
Feeling shut out and slightly foolish, I found my clothing and silently put it on, wondering if I'd screwed everything up. Using the beast against the man may have just been an unforgivable offense, and I felt the cool night air for the first time. It felt lonely as hell, especially when he faced away from me to pull his jeans on.  
  
He still hadn't said a word by the time I'd found my shoes and got my shirt buttoned properly, so I turned back towards the bike without a word, leaving his jacket on the ground. I'd made it only two steps when his hand shot out and pulled me into his arms.  
  
We held each other tightly for a very long time, until finally he cleared his throat. "Come away with me this weekend," he rasped.  
  
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. "Where to?"  
  
"I don't know. Anywhere."  
  
I knew what he was really saying. "Yes."  
  
He let out a shuddering breath. "No turning back, Jube. No more chances."  
  
About fucking time, I thought.  
  
"Okay." 


	4. Lovers' Waltz

Title: Lovers' Waltz  
  
Author: Ramos (Ramos004@Earthlink.net)  
  
Series: Steppin' Out With Wolvie  
  
Rating: NC-17 - Serious steam warning.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics. No profit is made by their use.  
  
  
  
My leather bag has seen a lot of miles over the years, but it still holds two days' worth of clothes just fine. Pair of jeans, flannel shirt, and something nicer for going out to dinner. Shaving kit and two changes of undershirts and boxers. I was tucking a handful of foil packages discretely under my spare socks when Rogue knocked on the door, nice and quiet but a half-hour late.  
  
I stuffed the last of my gear in the bag and yanked the door open. "'Bout time."  
  
"Yeah, sugah, you're welcome," she said, sweetly sarcastic, and placed a bulging carry-on next to the door with deceptive ease. I could tell just by looking that it had to weigh a ton.  
  
"You gotta be kidding."  
  
"Don't even go there, Logan." Her gloved hands were on her hips, and she glared at me. "You asked me to pack for Jubilee, but ya didn't even tell me where you're takin' her. Maybe if I'd known what I was packin' for…"  
  
I ignored her subtle fishing and grabbed my bag off the bed. "Thanks for everything, Rogue. If'n anybody asks, you don't know where we are or how to get ahold of us."  
  
I was reaching for the other bag when Cyclops jogged by the open door and snapped "Briefing room – Now!"  
  
No. This is not happening, dammit.  
  
I went anyway. I listened. Jubilee sat across the table and listened, and trotted off to the Blackbird like a good little superhero while I grabbed Cyke and shoved him against the wall.  
  
"I had plans this weekend, One Eye."  
  
"Yeah? So go. We can handle this without you."  
  
I didn't even try to stop the growl coming out of my throat. I was not about to advertise my intentions. I settled for bouncing him off the wall.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
It had taken a week and every scrap of romance I've got, which admittedly isn't much, to put this weekend together. A little bed and breakfast place on the coast. Roses. Chilled champagne, the works. Now the whole thing was swirling down the drain because whatever emergency came up can't wait. Some days my job just stinks on ice.  
  
Jubilee giggled for an hour when I finally got around to telling her about my plans, once I knew they were past salvaging. We were tired, hungry, and more than a little outnumbered, but she just looked at me with dirt on her face, a sparkle in her eye, and laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.  
  
"You're a sweetie, Logan," she said, and kissed me, and then we were off to save the world again.  
  
We never did get to that bottle of champagne, and it was friggin' ages until things finally settled down again. The past few months had been an unending trudge through the trenches as one crisis after another erupts. Swear to god, I'm gonna make Cyclops put a punch clock out there in the hanger so we can start clocking our overtime. He's even been making noises about recruiting some more members because we were all spread so thin, especially after Bobby began cracking jokes about starting a union. Guthrie asked him if it would provide dental insurance, and Cyke was the only one who didn't think it was funny.  
  
When we finally got some down time and let life return to our version of normal, I was more relieved for Jean and Jubilee's sake. They'd been out on a mission together recently that had gone real bad, ending up with a couple of kids dying on 'em, and they both needed a little extra careful handling. I wasn't so worried about Jean, 'cause a telepath like her has a lot of practice processing emotion. She also had her own kids and a husband to help her deal.  
  
Jubilee, on the other hand, has a handful of coping mechanisms, including denial, avoidance, and sublimation. I'm one of the few people she's ever shown even a glimpse of what she really feels. Eventually she dealt with the pain the way she always does – buried it deep inside and sealed it off.  
  
I was still a little worried about her the Sunday afternoon I grabbed her, a basket of grub and my scoot and hauled her out for some fresh air and a change of scenery. We spread out a blanket and ate cold fried chicken and chocolate cake in a field on the far side of Xavier's grounds. There's no road through there, just a dirt track, and the only signs of life you see are hawks and the occasional deer.  
  
After lunch, we stretched out and talked for a while. She didn't cry, not that she ever does a lot of that, but she did get a few things off her chest and I gave her what little advice I could. Jubilee's already seen and done more than anyone her age should, even if they do hold down a full time job of superheroing. The fact that she still comes up swinging is just one more thing about her that's amazing.  
  
She fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, and I admit I pulled my hat down and caught a few minutes of shut-eye. I was probably out for less than an hour, but when I woke, she was sucked up to me like a starfish and I had a significant problem.  
  
She startled slightly as I tried to shift out from under her, and those beautiful indigo eyes opened. When she focused on me she gave me this sleepy smile and God, it was like free falling. Without moving a muscle, I suddenly felt myself plummeting and she was there to catch me. Her mouth was soft and warm as the sunshine around us, and by the time my brain caught up, we were both breathing hard.  
  
"Jube," I managed. "I didn't plan this when we came out here."  
  
Her nose wrinkled at me. "So?"  
  
I felt like banging my skull on the ground. "I didn't plan on this, darlin'."  
  
She got it this time. The nearest condom was back in my room at the mansion. That smile slowly grew and she reached up to kiss me on the cheek, just above the sideburns.  
  
"I'm on the pill," she whispered, then bit me gently on the neck.  
  
Well, a man can only take just so much.  
  
I kissed her again, pressing her down into the old blanket and hearing the grass below it give way beneath our combined weight. She moaned low in her throat as I traced a hand down her collarbone, brushed over the curve of her breast, then found the bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. My hand made the same journey back up, only this time under the shirt, brushing over the lace of her brassiere before running behind her and finding the little hooks in the back.  
  
Jubilee's head drifted down to the rumpled fabric as I unfastened it, exposing the long line of her neck. Her skin tasted of warm Jubilee and smelled a little like the fruity bath gel she uses. She helped as I pulled the shirt over her head, the brassiere going at the same time and leaving her bare from the waist up. Her breasts were incredibly beautiful, not large but definitely not small, and round as ripe apples. Her skin was the color of early honey, the nipples a dusty pink, and they tightened up even as I looked at them.  
  
Jubilee lay back and let me look, a half smile on her mouth that fell into an oh as I leaned forward and licked the tip of one breast, circling my tongue around the hardening tip until it puckered into a tight bud and I drew it into my mouth. I suckled it gently and started getting damned turned on from the sounds she made.  
  
I found her mouth again, kissing her like I had all the time in the world, and we did. The sunlight beat down on my back, not fierce enough to be uncomfortable, but the epitome of a lazy summer afternoon. I returned to the other breast this time, giving it the same attention and filled both hands with the bounty of the woman before me.  
  
Her moans rose until she gripped my hands, making me stop, then she started tugging on my shirt and pulled it up until I had to let go so she could take it off. I reached for her again but Jubilee pushed me down on my back and gave me a saucy smile as she leaned over me, her breasts swaying as she kissed me this time. Evading my roving hands, she moved down to my feet and one boot, then the other clumped to the ground. Walking on her knees did interesting things to the view, and I didn't realize she was unfastening my belt until the buckle hit me on the hip.  
  
"Jube," I cautioned her, but she ignored me and had the button undone and the zipper tab in her fingers before giving me that smile again.  
  
I put my head back and focused on the leaves of the tree above. It had been giving us some shade before the sun had gotten so far west, and Oh God, she just put her hands down either side of my hips. Inside my boxers. I raised my butt off the ground as she urged my jeans down, and in short order I was wearing nothing but a pair of socks.  
  
Thoughtfully, she pulled those off too, taking a moment to rub my feet and dust a silly lint ball off one toe. I propped myself on one elbow and looked up at her, and I doubt I've ever felt so at ease and so aroused at the same time. Jubilee finally realized I was watching her, and she blushed just a bit. The blush got a hair brighter as she glanced around the field self-consciously, but her fingers didn't hesitate as she peeled off the bike shorts she'd been wearing. An ice blue pair of panties remained, and I sat up and beat her to it as she went to take them off as well. They slid down her lean thighs, toned as only a grueling superhero regimen can make them, but I honestly don't think I'd care what they looked like as long as they were hers.  
  
Kneeling, facing each other, we took turns stroking each other, kissing each other on the mouth and elsewhere. Her hands brushed through the hair on my body as I returned to her breasts, cupping them delicately and rubbing my thumbs over the peaks. She finally grasped me firmly in both hands, and inhaled sharply when I responded with a jerk and pinched her nipples hard.  
  
Her confidence growing, she stroked my length until I began to growl in time with her movement. I didn't know who her first lover was, if he was the one who taught her how to do this, and I didn't want to know. I only regretted, just for a moment, that it hadn't been me who'd taught her these things, that any other man had ever made love to her. I pulled her hands away from me before it was too late and kissed the laugh out of her mouth.  
  
Her eyes closed and her head sagged back as I bent down to lick her throat. I hauled her tight against me, and she gasped as the former object of her attention slid between her thighs, grazing her femininity. Her back arched as I pulled her higher, her sweetly rounded behind filling my hands. She gripped my shoulders and arched back further, most of her weight in my arms as I held her tight against my chest and suckled again at the luscious breasts she offered.  
  
I couldn't stand it any longer; I sat on my heels, forcing her legs on either side of my thighs and enjoying the little whimper she made as I rocked my hardness into her, almost penetrating. She ground down on me, the sounds coming from her making me even harder as I gripped her hips, then slid my fingers around and under her and stroked her sex until it opened naturally, slick with her desire. Her bright pink fingernails dug into my arms as I slid a finger into her.  
  
A growl rose from my chest as she jerked and trembled with my movements, her thighs gripping mine convulsively. Swiftly I moved forward, pinning her to the ground with my weight. Sapphire blue eyes opened and met mine as I moved up, situating myself and slowly penetrating. I entered her an inch at a time, drawing back only to go deeper, and all the while her eyes stared up at me with an expression of delight and wonder. Finally I kissed her and surged deep, taking her gasp in my lungs as I exulted in the total possession of her, her total possession of me.  
  
We moved together, slow and steady, and I refused to increase my pace as she grew frantic beneath me. A dominant instinct I couldn't stifle rose in me as she moaned my name. Only as she began to buck her hips into mine did I allow my urgency to take over, thrusting harder as she clutched at my shoulders, her nails digging in with tiny sensations of pain that hurt in a way that was so good. A strangled scream rose from her throat as she threw her head back in total abandon and shattered in her orgasm, tearing me over the edge with her in a blinding roar.  
  
At last we returned to earth, the sun still warm on my back. Jubilee's leg was stirring slightly where it wrapped around my calf, and I looked down at her, trying not to appear smug. She saw through me anyway, and laughed, the relaxed joy on her face the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I kissed her and nuzzled her ear.  
  
"I love you," I said quietly. She jerked, and I lifted my head to see her expression. I had expected a smile, and the achingly vulnerable look surprised me. Her eyes were wide in the sunlight, and it hit me that she didn't know I loved her before this. She had told me she loved me, had been in love with me before, and had warned me that she'd fall in love with me again when we began this relationship.  
  
But in all that time, she never expected me to fall in love with her.  
  
The fact that I'd ever acted that way, ever gave her cause to believe I'd use her like this without loving her, smacked me in the head like a rubber sledgehammer. I know I've screwed up before, let her down and given her no reason to believe me ever again, but I never knew how bad I hurt her until now.  
  
I swallowed hard, and raised a hand to touch her face, willing her to believe me. "I love you, Jubilee. I love you."  
  
Her eyes darted from side to side, searching my face for sincerity or for something else, God only knows what, and I was desperate for her to find it, for her to believe in me, in us. "I love you," I repeated, kissing her again and again, saying it repeatedly, until she gave a tiny sob and her arms tightened hard around me.  
  
"I love you," I breathed in her ear.  
  
"I love you, too," she whispered, and I kissed her hard, holding her cradled in my arms and unwilling to let her go, ever.  
  
**********  
  
It was shortly after that I decided maintaining any dignity I had could take second place to the fact that I was living in the same house as the gal who could make me forget how to think with one impudent look. It's been a long time since a woman could just walk by and make me react, but Jubilee could narrow one of her almond-shaped eyes at me and I had all the hormonal impulses of a teenage boy on a date with the prettiest girl in school. More than once I heard a voice announce 'they're at it again' after walking in on us necking in front of the TV. The expression 'get a room' got a workout, too. Thing is, we have a room. We have two rooms. Considering Jubilee sleeps in my bed most nights, I think that might be one room too many.  
  
We've been lovers for just about a year, now, and somehow I'd kept from screwing this up. I don't think I've ever spent this amount of time with any woman. Whenever I return to the house my feet just automatically go find her, and it's completely absurd that I have insomnia on the nights she's not with me.  
  
The worse part, though, is when Jube grabs her shades and waves as she climbs in that jet plane.  
  
It beyond me how Scott can just stand there and watch Jeannie take off in the Blackbird without him, 'cause I'm an absolute wreck. Even though I know Jubilee is damned good at what we do, even though her pyrotechnic abilities are Alpha class and her intermittent clairvoyance has come through in the pinch more than a few times, just the sight of her coming off the jet at the end of any mission, hairy or not, makes my chest ache in a way I've never experienced.  
  
I asked her once, casually, if watching me leave bothered her any more than it used to. I had my uniform laid out, ready to leave in the next few hours, and we were lying on my bed, just talking. Jubilee rolled over on me and seemed to take a great deal of interest in combing my chest hair at that moment.  
  
"Jube?" I questioned.  
  
Her head lowered until her nose touched my skin between her hands, and I barely heard her say, "Yeah, it does." I ran a reassuring hand over her back, and started to say something asinine about how tough I was, but her mouth was suddenly on mine, her hands frantic against my body, and out of the blue we were all over each other. Before I left that night, I suggested she move her stuff in. But when I got back, she just laughed it off and told me I'd never be able to stand all her junk in my bathroom.  
  
So here it is April again and she still won't move in with me. To make things worse, the leaves on the oak trees around the estate were nearly full size, and I'm gettin' ansty. Full green here meant the laurels were blooming up on a certain mountain in Canada, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do.  
  
It had been no big deal at this time last year. I threw some duds in a bag, said 'see ya,' and hit the road. This year, things were about as different as they can get. I tried to avoid thinking about it at all, but I was getting crabby and people were starting to give me looks. I guess I finally pushed it too far one morning, because Jubilee climbed out of bed and went to the closet, and the next thing I know my duffel bag hit me in the chest.  
  
"Get packed, grouchy butt." She walked out of my room, leaving me sitting there and feeling like a jackass. I did what she told me, and when I made it down to the kitchen, she handed me a lunch pail.  
  
"Have a wonderful time, and send me a postcard from Japan. One of those really tacky ones."  
  
She planted a quick kiss on me and gave me one of those casual waves, then hollered up at Rogue and asked if she wanted to hit the sale at Sacs Fifth Avenue. I looked at her backside, disappearing up the stairs, then at the bag in my hand.  
  
I made it to that spot in Canada in just under thirty hours.  
  
Usually, I sit by Silver Fox's grave for endless hours, thinking about the memories I have, wondering which are real and which are planted fakes. I pace, get pissed off at the injustice of it all, then calm down, meditate, and when I feel ready, move on. My version of a Zen roto-rooter. This time, I sat on the ground and looked at the broken, weathered piece of wood with its barely legible inscription, and felt nothing. No, that's not entirely right. I felt a little stupid. Silver Fox, the one I remember, anyway, would have kicked my butt for being such a jerk as to go off and leave my current girlfriend to visit the grave of a woman who's been dead for over a dozen years. And then I realized that I don't even remember falling in love with Silver Fox. I clearly remember Sabretooth killing her, and I know that was a lie. The only thing I know for sure is that, at one point, I did love her. We were happy together.  
  
Instead of talking about the past, I found myself telling Silver Fox about Jubilee, about how she'd grown up but was still the same person who'd blind- sided her the one time they'd met. I think she would have liked Jube a lot. I finally remembered the lunch bucket and dug it out, hoping she hadn't packed anything like tuna salad. It was peanut butter, which may not be my favorite but it will keep for over a week if the bread doesn't go furry first. A bag of chips, and another bag of cookies. No note. I spent the night thinking, and then in the morning bid goodbye to the silent grave of a woman I barely remember and headed for JFK.  
  
Japan was pretty much the same as it always is, crowded with people who are too polite to let you know how much they wish you really weren't there. I hiked my way to the Yashida Clan temple, avoided anyone I knew, and lit a couple sticks of incense for Mariko. And again, I felt nothing. I sat there for the entire time it takes those things to burn, cross-legged, trying to meditate. Nothing. Mariko and I had loved each other, but our commitments to duty had interfered with our commitment to each other.  
  
Once I got back in the States, I made the trip from the airport to the mansion in record time and pulled into the circle drive just as late afternoon was turning into evening. Everything looked the same, but somehow I felt different. When Jubilee came out of the back entrance and moved towards me, not exactly running but in that quick, energetic stride of hers, I knew what it was. This was the last time I'd be coming home alone. If I ever made that little pilgrimage again I'd be taking her with me.  
  
Her arms wrapped around my neck as she threw herself at me and I lifted her clear off the ground as we kissed.  
  
"You're home early," she said, like I'd just come back from the market.  
  
"Uh huh," I got out, before capturing her mouth again for some more kisses. I started walking forward, keeping her feet off the ground. "Let's go upstairs and say hello some more."  
  
The arms around my neck squeezed a little tighter, pulling her chest into mine in a way that said 'oh, yeah,' but then she made a protesting noise and loosened her hold.  
  
"I can't," she groaned, giving me a grin and several suggestive eyebrow twitches. "I have a date with a much younger man."  
  
"What?" I could feel the scowl coming on. "Jubilee…"  
  
Two pairs of small arms grabbed me, and Jubilee, around the waist. "Uncle Wolvie! You're home, you're home!"  
  
Chris and Maddie were jumping up and down with excitement, which is fine but it makes a man uncomfortable when a couple of seven year olds start snickering while he's kissing his girl. I let Jubilee slide down and she gave me an archly sympathetic smile.  
  
"My dates. We're going to the movies, right kids?"  
  
The jumping and hollering started again, this time with more volume as they each grabbed one of her hands and started yanking.  
  
"Okay, okay! Go get in the car -- and watch your fingers! Let me grab my purse and I'll be right there."  
  
They let her go and scampered off. Following Jubilee into the kitchen, where her purse was waiting on the table along with the car keys and her sunglasses, I pulled her into my arms for another kiss. We both groaned when I let her loose.  
  
"Gotta go," she said.  
  
"Want some company?"  
  
Jubilee stopped dead and stared at me, then started to giggle uncontrollably. "Wolverine… at a Disney flick… ohmigod…."  
  
I growled at her, which has had zero effect on her for years. Still chortling, she gave me another quick kiss and put on her shades.  
  
"I'll be back in a couple of hours."  
  
And then she was gone, out the door; the purse slung jauntily over one shoulder and shaking her head.  
  
I watched as she backed out of the garage and narrowly missed my bike, which she probably did on purpose just to give me heart failure. Then she was gone, and I felt oddly unsettled.  
  
The sound of a footstep behind me let me know Scott was in the doorway. "Logan. Welcome home." He was wearing a suit with the tie hanging loose, which explained why Jube had the kids tonight. Jean was probably down at the boathouse, still getting ready.  
  
"Thanks," I muttered, heading into the house, but Scott didn't get out of the way when I walked towards him.  
  
"You know," he said, conversationally, "when you two started dating I figured it was just something you had to get out of your system. I didn't really expect it to last."  
  
"You got a point?"  
  
"No. Just some free advice. Take it or leave it." He waited, but I didn't say anything. "Jubilee's been good for you."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That ain't advice, Cyke. That's an observation."  
  
Scott regarded me steadily. "If it's right, don't mess around. The longer you wait, the better the chances are you'll screw it up royally." The dying sunlight glittered in the red quartz of his glasses as he moved out of the doorway. "Trust me on this one."  
  
I didn't bother answering him, and I tried not to think about his words while I went up to my room and dumped my bag on the floor and opened the windows. The bed was made in Jubilee's haphazard style, which let me know she'd slept here at least once while I was gone, and there were some of her clothes in the hamper when I dumped the stuff from my bag into it.  
  
It was the same bag I'd loaded so carefully last summer. I can't begin to count the number of times I've packed that thing, grabbing it and shoving in a few changes of clothes. I tried to think how long I'd had it, and I suddenly remembered when I'd gotten it. It had been a Christmas gift from Jubilee, years ago when she was still in Massachusetts. She must have hoarded her allowances for months to buy it; it was leather and it hadn't been cheap.  
  
My claws popped out before I realized it and the desire to shred the leather was overwhelming. Just a kid, saving her money to buy me a present so I could go off and leave her again. I snarled aloud and threw the damned thing in the closet so I wouldn't have to look at it, and flopped on the bed. Lying there, I watched the shadows move across the ceiling as the sun set, just waiting and thinking until it was fully dark.  
  
Eventually lights swept across the ceiling, followed by car doors slamming, and the faint sound of young voices echoing across the yard. Hank's deep voice rumbled out; he and Celia have been using the twins for 'practice' ever since they found out they were expecting. By Christmastime this year, there'd be another kid underfoot.  
  
I turned on the bedside lamp and wondered why I was thinking about kids when I can't even get my girl to move in with me. Then I heard her footsteps outside my door, the light tapping as she opened it, probably expecting me to be asleep.  
  
"Logan?" she called softly, and she let out a squeak as I crossed the floor and pulled her into my arms. She smelled like red licorice and popcorn, and she tasted incredible as I dragged her back towards the bed. We fell on it together, both of us making small, impatient noises. She sat up a little, her legs wrapped around my thighs, and pulled off her shirt to reveal one of those front snap brassieres I've definitely developed a thing for. Then she smiled, lips curving sweetly, and let me show her how much I'd missed her.  
  
Afterwards, when we crawled under the covers and she turned out the lamp, I dragged her into my arms and kissed the back of her neck.  
  
"I missed you," I whispered to her, glad I wasn't looking her in the eye.  
  
"Missed you, too," she replied sleepily, patting my arm absently as she buried her face in the pillow and snuggled her back against my chest. I put my head against hers, and we fell asleep.  
  
Dawn was just a whisper in the cool breeze blowing through the white curtains when I woke. There's absolutely nothing as good as waking up slow on an early summer morning with the birds singing outside the window. It's even better when there's a warm body next to yours, especially when it's a body like Jubilee's.  
  
My eyes see plenty good in low light, but the pale ambient glow from the horizon lay over Jubilee's cheek and shoulder, adding a glimmer to her smooth skin. She lay with one arm curled under her cheek, the pillow shoved up against the headboard and sagging over her head, and that hair of hers sticking out all over the place.  
  
She protested sleepily when I pulled the sheet down, but she wakes me up this way at least once a week, and turn-about is much better than fair play. For once she'd gone to sleep without putting something on, which may have been what gave me the idea in the first place; all those gorgeous curves, and nothing to slow me down. I got one of those quiet feminine moans as I ran my hands all over, as slow this time as we'd been feverish last night.  
  
"Logan," Jubilee protested, very unconvincingly, but I love the way she gasped as my mouth replaced my hands. Her hands were just as busy as I moved over her, settling between her thighs and letting her know without a doubt exactly what was on my mind.  
  
"Open your eyes, Jubilee."  
  
She finally did, the mischievous sparkle darkening, deepening as it always did when we made love. They slowly drifted down again as she began to move with me, breathless, wordless sounds coming from her parted lips. Dusty pink and luscious, I had to kiss them again.  
  
"Marry me," I whispered.  
  
Her eyes flew open again. "What?"  
  
I repeated it, still moving, which I admit was distracting to me as well.  
  
"God, Logan... your timing.. sucks."  
  
"You've never complained before."  
  
She chuckled and kissed me back, which wasn't really an answer, but thinking was a serious difficulty at that moment.  
  
It wasn't what I'd planned. Hell, I hadn't planned on saying it, let alone at that particular moment. But I'd been thinking about it, and if I was honest with myself, I'd been thinking about it a lot, even before Cyke said something. The first time I kissed her I had realized, in a cool sensible way, that I could fall in love with her. I felt it, like putting a toe in a mountain stream. Only now did I realize that this, what I felt, was more like drowning in a deep, sun-lit sea and not caring, just so long as I could keep her here in my arms.  
  
She was draped across me a while later, her head on my chest, when I said "Well?"  
  
A full body stretch accompanied her purring response. "Oh, yeah. Reunion sex is definitely good." She propped one elbow on my sternum, her legs still rubbing against mine. "If I go on a trip this afternoon, can we have sex like this again tonight?" She smirked at me, and I couldn't resist grinning back.  
  
"Sure, darlin', but that's not what I meant."  
  
The amusement slowly drained from her face. "I thought you were kidding." She started to slide off me, something I put a stop to by grabbing her.  
  
"Would I kid about marriage?"  
  
"No, but…" She bit her lip. "I just didn't think we were ready to even talk about something like this."  
  
It's past time, Jubilee."  
  
She peeled my hands off her, and reluctantly I let her go. Her legs curled up into a lotus position, her arms crossed over her breasts, and I could feel her withdrawing from me.  
  
"Why? Why is now the time?" Her voice was rising, the defensive tone setting off warning signals down my spine.  
  
"It's time, because I said it's time. And don't get your back up," I warned her as she bristled, "I'm just saying that I went and brought it up, so maybe we oughta talk about it."  
  
She pulled the crumpled sheet up from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her. "We haven't even talked about living together, Logan."  
  
"Well, it ain't like I haven't asked ya to."  
  
"I wasn't ready…"  
  
"That was the first time, darlin'," I bit out, my temper flaring a bit. "Then when you sprained your knee, which, by the way, is the last time you're talkin' me into going skiing, I told you it would be a good idea. You couldn't even go to the can by yourself."  
  
She didn't answer me, so I supplied it myself. "As I recall, you told me to bugger off, though that might have been the painkillers Hank was giving ya."  
  
The sheet got an extra tug as she scratched her other hand through her ruffled dark hair. "So, why are we even bringing up the subject of getting married?"  
  
I considered it for a moment. "Maybe I'm jumping the gun on this. I don't know." It's hard to think and talk about something this important at the same time. "And maybe it's because I am old fashioned, but I always figured if two people didn't kill each other or walk away, they eventually got to the same place. Hell, even Jean and Summers got their act straightened out."  
  
"So… we should get married, just because we haven't killed each other yet?"  
  
"Course not." Exasperated, I climbed out of bed and pulled on the jeans I found among the clothes strewn on the floor.  
  
"Then why? What does being married give us that we don't already have?"  
  
"Okay, so I said it wrong, Jube. I'm just saying I want us to be together."  
  
"We are together, Logan. We love each other… we're lovers. We don't need to change anything. What difference is a ring gonna make?"  
  
My irritation rose as I patted my pockets, found my lighter and dug a cigar out of the box on the dresser. I hadn't figured on needing to convince her. I knew she loved me, hell, she told me that on a regular basis. The words came flying out before I could stop them.  
  
"Because I need you." The look of utter shock on her face startled me, and somehow I kept going. "You have my heart, Jubilee. More than that, you have my soul. I can't imagine a life without you in it."  
  
If anything, her eyes grew larger. I waited for her to say something, and was unprepared when she reached a trembling hand for the nearest piece of clothing and made a desperate break for the door.  
  
I caught her, made her turn around, but she wouldn't look at me.  
  
"Jubilee?" Of all the reactions she could have had, I never expected this.  
  
"I need to think about this. Please, Logan…" She was begging, shaking, and it took every ounce of self control I had to nod once, jerkily, and let her slip out the door, holding my shirt closed around her.  
  
**********  
  
For three days, she didn't speak a word to me. She stayed away the first night. The second night, she slipped into my room without saying a word, stripping off her clothing and sliding into my bed, saying my name only when I brought her to orgasm, and then letting me spoon around her as we fell asleep.  
  
Last night, again, she came to me and let me touch her. When I pulled her back into my arms and kissed her on the shoulder, my chin stubble scratched a shiver down her back.  
  
"Jube," I started, but she shook her head in denial.  
  
"Don't," she whispered, and after a moment she turned, and I felt something warm and wet fall on my face as she kissed me softly on the mouth and backed away, out of the bed and out of my room.  
  
I lay awake for the rest of the night, and my mind kept going back to a conversation I had with Jubilee when she was in college, before we started all this. She was headed back to school the next morning, and as usual she'd been avoiding the whole issue of packing by lazing away the end of the day with me, the two of us just sitting out by the lake under our favorite tree. I was teasing her a bit about getting back to her boyfriend in Boston, and the kid who'd been flirting with her when I bought her an ice cream earlier that day.  
  
I thought she was going to ignore me for a while, but she corrected me on the boyfriend's name. "Past tense," she'd added. I must have given her the right non-committal response, 'cause she opened up and told me some things I don't think she'd ever told anyone, about a guy she'd known at the Massachusetts School. I vaguely remembered Synch, only Jubilee called him Ev and talked about all the good times they'd had. She was telling me about how upset his girlfriend had been when he died, and how bad she'd felt for them, for Monet. I had been trying to match that up with the fact that I KNEW Jube couldn't stand Monet when I heard a tiny sniff and realized I could smell her tears in the breeze. I felt like smacking myself. Jubilee had been in love with the boy, and he'd been too stupid or blind to see it and had died, never knowing it.  
  
I'm usually lousy with words so I didn't say anything, just played possum and stared at the toes of my boots while she wiped her face with her sleeve. I finally managed to tell her it sounded like he was a good kid, and she said yeah, he was. Then she'd rolled over onto her stomach in the grass and looked straight at me.  
  
"I always did have the best taste in friends."  
  
"Yeah, darlin'. Me too."  
  
"Too bad your taste in girlfriends is so rank."  
  
I swatted at her, and then I told her that maybe she was right; she needed to shop around some more before she settled for a guy who scooped ice cream for a living. She'd laughed, and it was wonderful to hear.  
  
That day was the first time I'd tried to imagine Jubilee falling in love with a man, and I knew that whoever he was, he'd be the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet. The idea of giving Jubilee away on her wedding day had risen up out of nowhere, and what should have been a joyful thought had suddenly as bitter as ash in my throat. I hadn't wanted to think about her giving that fierce loyalty to anyone else but me.  
  
I've known her for years – more than half her life. Her courage, her spirit – these are things she's always had. Her fierce loyalty to me was something I hadn't expected from such a young kid, and it surprised me. It had surprised me even more when she'd maintained that loyalty as she grew older, even though I acted like an asshole and took off, leaving her to fend for herself at the mansion.  
  
She went off to school, and months would go by without us seeing each other. Each time we got together I'd realize how much I missed her, but I justified myself with the thought that she was too young to deal with the stuff I had going on at the time, that she was safer in Snow Valley than she would have been with me. That lie stood up pretty good, even after the whole Zero Tolerance fiasco when we didn't even know she was missing. Yet after all that, I still figured she was better off without me.  
  
It had never occurred to me that I wasn't better off without her.  
  
Back then, the idea of her passing out of my life was bittersweet. Now, it's not sweet at all. The very hint of not keeping her in my bed, in my life, is making me panic. And my inner beast thoroughly pissed off as well. It knew Jubilee, and it liked her. More than that, it respected her, because she's busted its chops on one or two occasions when I lost control completely. The Wolverine knew a prospective mate was in the offering and it was furious at the thought of not having her. We're talking white hot beserker rage, and it's getting harder and harder to control.  
  
I finally couldn't take it any more; I was going to have this out with her once and for all, and if I couldn't make her see sense I was going to do something drastic like drag her off to my cabin in Canada for the winter. Not the greatest plan I'd ever come up with, considering it was only May, but I was getting desperate.  
  
I tracked her down out by the lake, in our old spot, where she was tossing last year's acorns into the water. I pulled up a patch of grass next to her and sat down. She ran out of acorns after a while, and drew her knees up under her chin.  
  
"I don't want to marry you," she finally said.  
  
God, I've felt pain before, but I think Magneto's brand of metal extraction hurt less than her words. The Wolverine was howling in the back of my head and wanting to attack whatever was taking away its mate. It was a minute before I could get the raw spot in my throat to go down enough to speak.  
  
"Can I ask why?"  
  
"No," she said flatly and scooted away another couple of inches.  
  
I waited, but for once the truth didn't come forcing its way from her, and the pain that she wouldn't confide in me was nearly as bad as her refusal. "You owe me an explanation, Jubilee, and I'm not leaving until I get it."  
  
She ducked her head. "It wasn't supposed to go like this," she whispered finally.  
  
"What, we were supposed to get it out of our system?" I threw Scott's words at her, and regretted it when she flinched.  
  
"No, not that." Her voice trembled a little bit when she answered. "I'm afraid."  
  
"Afraid of what, darlin'?"  
  
"I saw what losing Mariko did to you. And Silver Fox. I know how much you loved them." Her chin rubbed on the denim over her knee. "I can't be that much to you. Their deaths almost destroyed you, Logan. I don't want to even come close to putting you through that again. I would hate to think that I could be the cause of that amount of pain."  
  
"If I lost ya, ya mean."  
  
"Yeah," she whispered.  
  
"Jube… you're giving me that kind of pain right now." Hope is like a weed. It takes very little to make it grow, and it was growing in me. "I only been married once s'far as I remember, and I don't really think that green bitch counts. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't mean it." Reaching out, I brushed her cheek with my fingers until her head turned into my hand. I cupped that stubborn little chin in my palm and gathered all my courage.  
  
"You been my partner and my best friend for years, Jubilee. Even when life barely seemed worth the effort, you made it that way. You make being alive worthwhile." Her face was pale as she listened to me, really listened, and every word that came out of me seemed like fire in my chest.  
  
"You are the love of my life. One and only, darlin', just you." I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. "I got no right to ask, but please, don't leave me."  
  
A tiny sound came from her, half sigh, half sob, and I pushed her back in the grass and pinned her there. What I couldn't put into words, I tried to convey with my hands and my body as I kissed her, and at last she was kissing me back and I made love to her with an intensity that left us both shaking in the aftermath.  
  
Her fingers were in my hair, teasing that side into its preferred point while I lipped at her ear, when she breathed one word.  
  
"Okay."  
  
I pulled back so I could see her face, and the tentative smile she gave me was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  
  
"Yes, Logan. I'll marry you." She laughed at the huge grin that spread across my mug, and I hugged her hard enough to make her squeak, and then I attacked her neck. She was saying yes again a few minutes later, but then, so was I. It's a good thing this particular spot is hard to see from the house.  
  
A long time after that, we started talking. We were still joined intimately, and although she made a comment about enjoying the great outdoors more if she were on top, she seemed as reluctant as I was to get up and go back in the house. I asked her when she wanted to do this, and she surprised me again by saying she didn't want a huge production made of the whole thing.  
  
"I thought all gals had a thing for weddings."  
  
"What, a three ring circus like Jean and Scott's? Heck, no."  
  
"We could just take off," I offered. "Go to Atlantic City. Vegas, maybe."  
  
She shook her head. "No. I want everybody there, I just don't want to deal with all the crap like invitations and bridesmaids dresses and all that, you know…" her hand made an airy, aimless gesture above my shoulder as she ran out of words.  
  
"Crap," I finished for her.  
  
"Exactly. Too bad we can't just…" She trailed off again, a shrewd look in her eye, and I raised one eyebrow.  
  
"What?"  
  
The look on her face went absolutely feral with devilish glee. "Logan, have you ever thrown a surprise party for someone?"  
  
"Can't say as I have, sweetheart."  
  
She threw her head back, a gurgling chuckle coming out of her arched throat. That happens to be one of my favorite places, so I gave it some more attention. "Good grief, if we can pull this off, Bobby will never be able to top it."  
  
**********  
  
We had to drop a misdirecting hint to the Professor to get the ball rolling, but in two weeks we organized a rather large backyard party and invited all our pals, including Kitty and Pete from England and, over my better judgement, Nick Fury. I don't even want to know how he and Jube got to be chummy, but it was her idea and I just shook my head and told her she could talk to him. We got a license and a single wedding band for each of us. She offered to let me off the hook, 'cause she knows I don't wear jewelry. I don't even like to wear a watch, but I felt it was important that we both wear rings.  
  
The only problem we ran up against was finding someone who could do the actual deed, until I remembered that Nightcrawler had gotten ordained as a minister. We gave him a call and I think he was as excited as a kid on Christmas at the thought of performing a wedding. He wasn't actually a priest, 'cause the Catholics won't ordain mutants, but that's not necessary to hatch, match, or dispatch in the state of New York. We did some fast talking with some pencil pusher in the Registrar's office and got it all squared away.  
  
I'm pretty sure the Professor and Jean and, by extension, Scott had a suspicion that something was up, but those ideas probably ran to engagement announcements. They were watching us pretty close that afternoon, but they were off talking on the other side of the pool when I snuck up on Jubilee and asked her if she was ready. She was wearing a simple white sundress with some pretty flowers stitched on it, and when I held out my hand, she took it and gave it a squeeze. We made our way through the people to stand beside the elf.  
  
I heard a lot of murmuring from the crowd on the back terrace when Kurt asked for everyone's attention and someone killed the stereo, but I only had eyes for Jubilee. The crowd all gathered around, laughing and talking, and when they were reasonably quiet, Kurt pulled out the rings and his bible and started off.  
  
"Dearly Beloved, ve are gathered here in this company and in the presence of God to join these two people in the bonds of Holy Matrimony…."  
  
Jubilee tried hard to keep a straight face as the gasps and disbelief and at least one "holy shit" ran through the crowd, but her voice was steady and the crowd was totally silent by the time she answered all those 'will you promise' questions with "I will."  
  
When my turn came, I think every single eye in the place was staring straight at me as Kurt recited the list. Would I promise to love her, honor her, cherish and keep her, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and keep thee only unto her, for as long as you both shall live?  
  
One hell of a list.  
  
I said, "No."  
  
I cleared my throat, because I wanted this to be right.  
  
"I've broken too many promises to you, Jubilation Lee. But on this, I don't promise. I swear to you. I swear I will."  
  
Kurt just checked with Jube to see if she was okay with it, shrugged and went on. We did the 'I take thee' routine and the ring exchange, and finally I was kissing her and the garden was full of people cheering and hugging each other and generally acting like idiots. But hey, you don't get married every day. When the music finally started up again, I pulled my wife into my arms and called out for a country tune.  
  
That got some pretty blue eyes narrowed at me, but she laughed anyway and let me try to teach her to two-step.  
  
~fin~  
  
  
  
(Author's Note: Yes, in the traditional wedding ceremony, the guy goes first. Too bad.) 


	5. A Change in the Tune

Title: A Change In The Tune  
  
Author: Ramos (Ramos004@Earthlink.net)  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and I make no profit from their use other than the enjoyment of writing about them, and the wonderful feedback I've received.  
  
  
  
It's all the fault of some yutz in a sport utility. I just want to make that perfectly clear. Rogue's fault too, but that's because it was her Jeep.  
  
Emphasis on 'was.'  
  
We were sitting at an intersection on the third day of July, returning from a shopping spree to celebrate my last birthday in the twenties. That's right, little Jubilee was gonna turn twenty-nine, and there was nothing I could do about it besides enjoy the Independence Day sales that so happily coincided with my birthday. So we're arguing over who got the best deals and listening to the radio, waiting for the light to turn green, and all the sudden I had one of my feelings. I'm not psychic, I'm not precog, and I'm barely clairvoyant, but I've learned to pay attention to that feeling.  
  
"Rogue – move the car. Move the car, NOW!"  
  
She didn't argue, but she didn't quite move fast enough. The moron who failed to negotiate his turn on the ramp behind us sailed right out past the missing guard rail, down the little hill and straight into the rear quarter panel of the Jeep. Had we not moved, well, it would have hurt a lot less, cause I would have been dead. As it was the jeep spun sideways with the impact and slammed into the SUV, passenger side to passenger side, and it hurt a lot.  
  
When I woke up, I knew Logan was there before I opened my eyes. I've memorized the feel of his skin during the five years we've been married, and the sensation of his fingers stroking the palm of my left hand was the only thing that kept me from panicking. Nothing recognizable came out when I tried to talk, but I must have made a noise and his face came into view. It was a moment before I realized he'd moved, not my head.  
  
"Hey," he said, his voice a lot lower and gravely than usual, and my eyes felt gritty as I blinked and tried to get my throat to work. He reached over and got me a cup with a bend-y straw in it, which was about the time I realized I was in a hospital, not the Med Lab at the mansion. The water tasted wonderful, even though it was warm and been in a plastic container too long.  
  
"Hey, there." I thought hard for a minute, which was a really long time to come up with nothing better than "what happened?"  
  
"You and Rogue were out shoppin' and some bastard ran into ya," he growled, and I could see from the deep lines on his face and the fatigue in his voice that he'd been really worried.  
  
"Sorry," I managed. I attempted to move my head, which worked fine but hurt like hell, and the rest of me was a distant but overwhelming ache. Logan told me not to be sorry and pressed a kiss into my palm. I suddenly remembered something.  
  
"Crap. Missed my birthday." Tired-looking as he was, he still smiled.  
  
"Yeah, darlin'. You sure did."  
  
I only meant to close my eyes but I must have fallen asleep again. The next thing I knew some doctor in a white coat was arguing that I wasn't well enough to be discharged. Logan was insisting we had medical facilities at the Institute that could do everything he could and more, not to mention two full time doctors with nothing better to do than to take care of me.  
  
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," I hissed through dry lips. Logan and the doctor came over, and when I saw Celia behind them, I felt a huge relief. Logan gently stroked my aching head while Celia talked the doctor up and down about several things I don't think I could have followed even if I had been perfectly lucid. It sounded like they'd been over this a few times already.  
  
"Dr. Reyes," Mr. Official Policy finally sneered, "I'm quite aware of your qualifications. I'm also aware of why you no longer work in the public sector. I wonder if your employer is also fully aware of those circumstances?"  
  
Like we didn't already know Celia had lost her job at her hospital because she was a mutant, but this guy obviously thought that he could use it against her. I managed to get the doc's attention.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Lee? Did you need something?" He was all concerned, which would have been nice if he hadn't been talking to me like I was three years old.  
  
"Yeah," I rasped. "I want you to blow it out your ass. Logan, take me home."  
  
It was another two hours before they sprung me. Celia gave me a shot of something really nice, so the trip wasn't bad, and Logan rode with me, holding my good hand and telling me about the Shi'ar do-hickey Hank was going to use on me. That was Logan's word, not mine, not that my brain was up to doing anything better.  
  
Jean used her powers to lift me out of the rented van, and although I had a heck of a concussion, I was able to follow the explanation of my injuries. I was bruised just about everywhere, but the only real damage was to my right arm. They showed me the x-rays, and it was not pretty. We're talking a jig-saw puzzle, and the conventional treatment would involve pins, rods, at least two surgeries, and most likely it still would not work all that great.  
  
Fortunately for me, Hank and the Professor have some imported and quite possibly illegal medical machinery that would let me skip the gruesome bits, and still give better results. So I told Blue to do whatever he wanted to do. I really do trust him completely, and I hope he realized how hard it was for me to turn my face away from that arm and let him have at it.  
  
Logan held my good hand, and we squeezed so hard that our combined fist shook while Celia put something in my IV. He looked so tired and worried I was beginning to feel guilty and more than a little concerned about him. I still can't believe I'm married to him, some days. I kept looking at my husband while he faded, thinking how much I loved him, how great it was that he was willing to put up with all this. I was out cold before they made him leave.  
  
Whatever Hank and Celia did, it was a success. The bones in my arm hurt like hellfire for more than a week, and I took every little pill in its little white paper cup whenever Hank gave them to me. I finally recovered from the concussion and everything started feeling better – except the arm, which was still hanging from some trapeze thing they'd rigged. Logan tried to spend as much time with me as possible, but eventually he had to go eat, sleep, and shower. Not to mention the team is already missing one member of the team, namely me, so they're short-handed. (Best joke I can come up with. Must be the drugs.) I did talk him into smuggling me a magic marker, which I used to make some fake hieroglyphics on the gauze bandages swathing me from fingertip to armpit.  
  
"You must be feeling better," he commented when he saw what I'd done, and kissed me.  
  
"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you only have a few tapes to watch," I replied, grabbing the remote turning off the VCR. I can only watch Brendon Frasier twice a day.  
  
"Good. I was startin' to think maybe that concussion had done some permanent damage to you."  
  
"Why?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. "Am I forgetting things?" Had we already had this conversation? I tried to remember some of the signs of brain damage, but I drew a blank. Which didn't help at all.  
  
"Nah. It's just that you've been behaving yourself. Hank hadn't said you were driving him bonkers yet." He grinned at me. "You must be losin' your touch."  
  
I was still too weak to work up a good paf, so I settled for throwing my plastic slurpie cup at him. Logan's reflexes are still as fast as ever and he ducked, watched it clatter to the floor, then gave a significant look at the little white paper cup sitting by the remains of my lunch.  
  
I tried for puppy dog eyes, but Logan crossed his arms and leaned back, enjoying himself. I was nominally mobile, but even getting to the bathroom required one other person's help. No way was I going to be able to bend down and pick up that cup by myself.  
  
"Sweetheart, darling, love of my life, I seem to have dropped my cup. Will you pick it up for me? Pretty please?" I tried to bat my eyelashes, but I've always sucked at that. He raised one eyebrow.  
  
"What's in it fer me?"  
  
"Favor to be named later?"  
  
"Deal." He scooped it up, refilled it, and presented it to me with a flourish.  
  
"Thank you, honey," I drawled, piling enough sugar on to put him in a diabetic coma.  
  
"You're welcome. Brat," he added under his breath. I giggled and raised my mouth to his for another kiss.  
  
Neither one of us really expected the sparks we got off that kiss, and it quickly changed into something a whole lot more. I only had one hand, since the other was still trapped in the bandages and support system, but my husband is a talented and inventive man. We hadn't been alone together for almost two weeks, and believe me, that's a long time. It was sweet and slow and so damned good I felt a tear trail down one of my cheeks as we lay wrapped around each other. I really didn't want him to go, but Logan promised he'd break me out as soon as he could.  
  
Three days later, Hank finally put a cast on my arm and let me out of the Med Lab, but made me use the Professor's spare wheelchair when Logan took me upstairs for dinner. I nearly cried when I was wheeled into the dining room, because the gang had balloons and streamers everywhere for a belated birthday party. There was even a big cake with candles for Maddie and Chris and Hank's son William to help me blow out, and although I fell asleep before the kids did, I couldn't have asked for a better birthday.  
  
The accelerated healing still hurt quite a bit, and Hank kept feeding me drugs, but on the six-week anniversary of my accident, I could get the cast off. That's not long, considering the original prognosis, but wearing a cast for any amount of time in August is not pleasant.  
  
Unfortunately, Logan had an errand to run for the Professor, so he was gone that whole last week. I promised him we'd arm wrestle as soon as he got back, but he knew I'd miss him, and not only because dressing yourself one- handed is a lot harder than it sounds. When the big day came, I was practically skipping down the hall to the lab. Hank just smiled at me indulgently and got out the little saw.  
  
He'd finished about a third of the cut when the smell of the hot plaster and polymer coating got to me. I made him stop, and got to the sink in time to review everything I'd had for breakfast. In reverse. It took two more trips to the saw and then back to the sink before Hank gave up and pulled out a huge pair of tin snips out of his bag of tools and cut it off. Instead of checking out the arm, though, he made me sit down on the exam table.  
  
Celia joined him and they started playing twenty questions, asking if I was having headaches, dizziness, nausea, yada yada yada. They were feeling my skull and shining little lights in my eyes and looked really concerned when I had to go visit the sink again, and I wasn't too happy myself. I could hear them whispering as I pulled one of the little disposable cups off the dispenser by the sink and got a drink of water. I was about to crumple it up and throw it away when I had a second thought, about those other little paper cups full of drugs Hank has been handing me since I woke up in the hospital.  
  
"Hank, just what have you been giving me every day?" I asked, my voice low.  
  
"Nothing that should have upset your system this way, Jubilee. Pain medications, to be sure, along with some anti-convulsant and anti- coagulants when you first came home, to guard against blood clots from your concussion…."  
  
"Calcium supplements, some multi-vitamins to counteract the shock to your system from the Shi'ar technology…." Celia chimed in.  
  
"Uh huh," I grunted. My stomach twisted again, and I told it firmly to knock it off. "And did either of you two geniuses remember to put my birth control pills in with all those others?"  
  
They looked at each other, startled, but I had to puke again. They started up again after I came up for air, but I held up my good hand and cut them off.  
  
"Look, check out this," and I indicated the pale, weak thing that used to be a nice strong arm, "and then we can check out…." I couldn't say it.  
  
Hank was appalled at his thoughtlessness and babbled all the time he took a blood sample and bustled off to analyze it. Celia checked out my arm, which seemed fine, though she refused to give me an x-ray for sound reasons. She was happy the bones had healed, but she was awfully nervous looking when she gave me a hand up and let me take my feet out of the stirrups.  
  
Hank came back in the room when I was decent again, and they had a little conference over the clipboard as if we all didn't know the truth.  
  
"It's definitely positive, Jubilee."  
  
It felt strange to cross my arms again, but it's my favorite way to glare at people. They both shifted uneasily.  
  
"You two are both gonna baby-sit, we clear on that?"  
  
That got a grin from Hank and a smile from Celia, and for some reason that little smile made me burst into tears.  
  
Logan was due home late that night. I was too nervous to eat dinner, and I wasn't sure it would have stayed down anyway, so I skipped it and waited in our room trying to come up with a good way to break the news to him. This was not something we had discussed, in any fashion other than agreeing to talk about it later. A lot later.  
  
I had never realized how much I liked kids until I got roped into babysitting the twins, and later Hank and Celia's boy, but the thought of having kids of my own was really freaking me out. I also had no idea how Logan was going to react, but just thinking about telling him was giving me a wiggins equal to the whole being pregnant part.  
  
I still hadn't thought of anything when I heard his familiar footsteps in the hallway. The door flew open, and his old leather satchel flew across the room and smacked against the bathroom door as he pinned me to the wall and kissed me thoroughly.  
  
"Miss me?" he asked, but didn't let me answer for several more moments.  
  
"Oh, yeah," I said, kissing him back. No, wait, gotta talk. I got my hands between us and tried to push him back.  
  
"Hey, a hand. I like hands," he chuckled, taking my newly released and freshly scrubbed limb in his hand and kissing my knuckles. Then the palm. Then the wrist. Then a little further up the wrist. Oh, been a while since he's done that.  
  
"Logan, we need to…" Oops, forgot what I was saying.  
  
"I'm workin' on it, darlin'," he chuckled, working his tongue on the inside of my elbow. His breath was warm on my damp skin, and my body was telling my mouth to shut up.  
  
He pushed down the strap of my tank top and went to work on my shoulder and neck. I was going to need to wear a scarf tomorrow, but I didn't care, couldn't think, just let my head fall back against the wall as he kissed my throat. I felt his teeth lightly scrap over my collarbone, then he paused and went back over the same spot.  
  
His hands stilled, then pulled me higher against him as inhaled through his nose, following the shirt's neckline down to the little vee over my cleavage. Oh, shit. He was smelling me, and one of his big hands grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it down so he could bury his face between my breasts. Normally a turn on, but all he wanted was to get a concentrated dose of Jubilee.  
  
If it is possible to tackle someone in slow motion, he did. In seconds, I was sprawled flat on my back, pinned by Logan's weight as he examined my stomach with all the ferocious intensity he is capable of.  
  
"You talk to Celia about this?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, swallowing hard. "This morning. I got sick, and they did some tests."  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Yes. I'm fine."  
  
"Good."  
  
My pants were unzipped and my shirt was pushed up, but for once his attention was completely focused on a spot just south of my belly button.  
  
"You can't see anything yet, Logan. It's only about the size of a lima bean right now."  
  
"She."  
  
I laughed. "Okay." I held up my thumb and wiggled the end. "She is only about yea big." I let my hand drop onto the bed and breathed for a minute. "I guess you're okay with this, huh?"  
  
A huge rumbling growl came from the chest currently holding my hips to the mattress. "Hell, yes. I been thinking about this for a while. Just wasn't sure how you felt." He kissed my stomach, then crawled up the length of me to kiss me properly. Slowly, sweetly, about the same way we did the night we got into this predicament in the first place.  
  
"So. What do you think?" he asked. His eyes were dark and concerned, but he definitely looked pleased.  
  
"I haven't really thought, if you wanna know the truth. Not about a baby, anyway."  
  
"Hmmm," he harrumphed, rolling off me and pulling me up to lean against his chest in our 'talking' pose. "What about, then?"  
  
"Kids. Scott's kids, Celia and Hank's kid."  
  
"And we're gonna add to the pack of ankle biters around here. So?"  
  
I toyed with the ribbing in his tank, absently tracing the muscles under it. "Where are they gonna go to school, Logan? Maddie and Chris can already pass at the local school, but what about William? He's supposed to start school next year." William got his mom's build, but he's got Hank's teeth and eyes. The local elementary school is pretty tolerant, but junior high is hell enough without being a mutant.  
  
"You're thinking about the Academy again, ain't ya?" he asked, idly, but I wasn't fooled. He knew it was a sore subject. Actually, sore didn't cover it. How about flaming, incandescent rage? It had been ten years since I and the rest of my class had bailed on the drunk and the psycho bimbo. Sean had gotten his act together, but Emma had melted down again before I ever came back to the team, or I probably would not have come back. Even so, the Snow Valley school had remained closed, and I hated that.  
  
Yeah, I am." I lifted my head enough to look at him. "You know, I finally got the Professor to admit to me why he's never re-opened the school."  
  
"An' what'd he say?"  
  
"He isn't sure he can find anyone he can trust who's both strong enough to protect the kids and still got the patience to put up with them, not to mention teach them the right things they'd have to know about being a mutant."  
  
"Well, there ain't a lot of Alpha Class-ers running around who can handle kids."  
  
Living with Logan has let me pick up a number of bad habits, but the rude noise I made was all my own. "Yeah, right. I don't think he's looked hard enough." I knew I was being petulant, but this had been bothering me for some time, and it was now a whole lot more personal. But as my usually right (and don't tell him when he's wrong) husband just pointed out, not a lot of people measured up to Xavier's criteria.  
  
Except me. And him.  
  
I inhaled with surprise as the idea hit me, and when I looked at Logan, he looked back at me and smiled. He was way ahead of me. "Y'know, we been working too hard lately," he said casually. "We need to take a break, maybe some time off."  
  
"Logan, you can't be serious. You love this job."  
  
"I love you," he clarified. "A job is just a job, and there's no reason I can't run back here when ridin' herd on a bunch a kids gets old. You either. Kick some ass and come back and tell them all stories to make them bug-eyed. Oughta be fun."  
  
"But what about…" he cut me off with a kiss.  
  
"We'll figure it out." He laid a finger across my lips when I opened my mouth. "You think I don't see you lookin' at those mutant kids we find? All of 'em wandering around, foster homes and shelters, 'cause they got no place to go, 'cause nobody wants 'em? You think I don't see what that does to ya?"  
  
"I love you," I said, tears threatening again. Damned hormones, I've cried more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in years.  
  
"Yeah, I know," he said with a smug tone, and kissed me again. Lingeringly. And by the way, all that stuff about a pregnant woman's libido going out of control? No kidding. Seriously. It's a good thing Logan can heal fast, because I could really do some damage to a mere mortal.  
  
**********  
  
We spent a month doing some research, and tracking down a few teachers who'd lost their jobs because they were mutants. The Professor gave us the go-ahead, and we were off. My stroke of genius was when I approached a couple of government goobs and asked about how much the feds were willing to fork over for housing and teaching mutants. Hey, just because some black ops people had come up with the idea the first time didn't mean I couldn't use it ruthlessly to my advantage. Turns out there were social services at county, state, and federal levels that were willing to fund a group home- slash-school for mutants. We had to fill out reams of paperwork, and there were Strings attached to some of the money that I simply wasn't willing to put up with.  
  
By the time I was waddling I also blackmailed, arm twisted, and put on the pathetic pregnant woman routine to get the rest of the team and anyone else I could think of out there to help clean and paint the Academy, along with a few local volunteer groups. I had considered and discarded the whole secrecy bit, but it hadn't worked worth spit when I went there, so I didn't figure there was much point in trying now. Besides, the whole mutant threat thing had fizzled, if only a tiny bit, from when I was growing up. A lot of people still had a huge problem with it, but a slightly larger percentage of them were willing to think about it for a moment before going off. I used the media for all it was worth, and the donations poured in. A few idiots showed up at the gates to protest, with their cards and banners, but it's kinda hard to feel threatened by a woman who's six months pregnant. Threatened by her hulking and seriously not amused husband, yes, but not by me.  
  
I went to the local city council on a goodwill mission. I talked to newspapers. I even talked to a couple of Girl Scout troops. I worked so hard Logan would frequently pick me up and carry me to bed, still protesting, and lock the door so I couldn't go back downstairs to my office. But by the time the school year started, we would be ready. We had a half dozen students already committed to going to the school, and four more maybe's.  
  
In March, I called a few of the old gang, and they all laughed themselves sick when I told them about me being the new headmistress of the Xavier Academy. Angelo was the only one who wasn't that surprised.  
  
"Chica, that man of yours could drink Sean under the table, but you're never going to be able to match Emma for bitchiness."  
  
"That's kinda the whole point, isn't it?"  
  
"Too true. You sure you're gonna be able to handle the school and a new baby? They're a lot of work, I'm telling ya." He had two kids already by then.  
  
"Yeah, I think so. We'll have four months to get used to it."  
  
"Well, you let me know if you need a hand, 'kay?"  
  
"Actually, one of the kids who's already said he'll be going is from your old neighborhood…"  
  
"No, no, no, Jubes! I meant with the bambino. I'm not going near a teenager until mine are that age!"  
  
"Weenie!"  
  
Angelo laughed, and I was touched when he said I'd do a lot better job than the Ice Queen had ever been able to. He wished me luck, and said he'd keep an eye out for any likely kids.  
  
It felt odd, knowing I was leaving Westchester once again, but this time Logan was going with me. He and our new baby would be a family together, and that made all the difference. The gang at Xavier's was a family, too, but I couldn't take the thought of all those kids out there who didn't have a family to belong to, just because they're mutants. Xavier made a good pater familias, and now it was time to expand the family again.  
  
On a bright morning in April, I was propped against Logan's chest, trying to relax and enjoy the feel of his hand stroking my hair.  
  
"I love you," he murmured, and I felt him kiss the top of my head.  
  
I love you, too," I heaved with a sigh. "You know, this is really nice, but I'm going to be yelling at you soon."  
  
"Yeah?" he chuckled, barely loud enough for me to hear. "Well, I've been trying to get you to scream my name for years."  
  
I laughed. "Don't remind me." We hadn't made love for a week, and Celia says we have to wait about four weeks afterwards.  
  
Another cramp hit my back and spread, and I gasped.  
  
"Breathe, darlin'. Just breathe." His hand was rubbing my back, but it wasn't helping.  
  
"God, Logan, I take it back. I don't ever want to have sex again. LOGAN!"  
  
At the other end of the table, Celia looked up. "I think this is going to be the one, Jubilee."  
  
"Celia," I gritted out, "If you say that one more time I'm going to get up off this table and kill you!"  
  
"Shut up and push, Jubilee. This is it! Logan, help her sit up!"  
  
Those arms that had been holding me so nicely a minute ago forced me up higher as the full contraction hit, bending me almost in half, held me safely while I bit back a scream and did what I was told. An excruciating twenty seconds later Celia was crowing with delight and I collapsed backward into Logan's arms and listened to our baby start squalling.  
  
"He's got his daddy's temper," Celia called out.  
  
Logan's puzzled face came into focus as I frowned at him.  
  
"You said it was a girl," I panted, exhausted. We didn't even come up with a boy's name."  
  
"So sue me," he muttered, but the silly smile on his face was kinda cute. It changed, however, when Celia laid our son in my arms. Logan reached down and let the tiny starfish hand grip the end of one finger, and his eyes were suddenly wide and open, the absolute awe in his face overwhelming. His other arm tightened hard around my shoulders, and he kissed my forehead.  
  
"Damn, you do good work, Jubilee," he muttered, his voice strangled, and I knew he was as close to tears as I've ever seen him.  
  
"We do good work," I corrected him softly, and he nodded.  
  
"We do good work," he agreed, sniffing just a little bit. And then he grinned, the same Logan grin I've always loved so much, and we started to argue about names.  
  
~Fin~ 


End file.
